No Hesitation
by Vanamo
Summary: She was usually so alert, so focused. She was always on the job. She had been her whole life...what she considered her life anyway. Very AU. Camteen later.
1. Chapter 1

Hello my pretties! Have I got a story for you. This is more of a prologue, but bear with me.

* * *

His dry, calloused hands slipped up her abdomen while his lips latched onto her cheek in a slobbery manner.

Eleven, ten seconds… She mentally counted down in her head.

She withdrew her mouth from his ear, exposing her neck and sensually running her fishnet gloved fingers over his neck.

Eight, Seven… Feeling the adrenaline bubble up, she swallowed and flashed him a coy smile, to which he groaned.

It truly amazed her that no matter how many times they ripped off most of her clothes, they always let her keep her gloves. She brought her hands around his neck and her fingertips grazed the stubble, making him shiver.

Five, four… Every move must be solid- built up around a perfect shell of deception and indifference.

Her enticing blue eyes met his dark brown ones as he grinned lopsidedly and lolled his head back in anticipation.

Three…Two… It was almost too easy.

She withdrew a miniscule knife from the pouch on the back of the left glove, and...

One.

She swiftly jammed the knife through his right eyelid, into his brain - silent, instant death.

She withdrew it and climbed off the body, quickly scanned herself –no blood, no fluids, no hairs. She was too good to leave evidence. Besides, they were in an empty parking garage in New Jersey. They wouldn't find him until the rain predicted that morning came and the gutter splattered street crap all over his face. She smirked as she finished redressing.

When the newspaper hits the stand tomorrow- NOTORIOUS MOB BOSS KILLED- she'll have slipped into the shadows again and be long gone.

Unknown to her, a figure across the street was eyeing her.

* * *

Yes, I have gone where no writer has dared to go. I made Thirteen an assassin. And yes, as insane as that sounds, it has a plot. This'll be set at the end of season 3, but Cameron is a blonde. It'll be Camteen, but it's pretty dark for my writing and they swear quite a bit. It's a pretty fun experiment, so I want feedback. But regardless of the feedback, I'll continue it because picturing Thirteen in fishnet and leather is priceless. More tomorrow~


	2. Chapter 2

Dr. Allison Cameron wasn't one to frequent bars. She hardly ever went unless she was invited with friends, but today had just been too stressful. Chase had been pining for her affection and House was being a smartass about it. To top it all off, their patient was diagnosed with leukemia. With no family or donor matches, he probably wouldn't make it more than a few days.

As a result, she had headed to a bar a few blocks from her apartment to try to just get lost in a fog of intoxication.

She sighed deeply. All it had done was make her think clearly as to how crappy her life was. House would tell her she needed to get laid. Deciding this just wasn't her night she put on her coat and paid her tab before heading out.

How had she managed to drink until past midnight? Her bed seemed more inviting with every passing step. She made a mental note to next time pick a closer bar. It worried her a bit to think this could become a regular thing, but she liked the cool buzz she was getting.

As she ascended the steps of her apartment building, a cry pierced the silent night from the adjacent alley. On instinct, she ran toward the source of the sound. What she saw froze her in her tracks.

* * *

She was usually so alert, so focused. She was _always _on the job. She had been her whole life… what she considered her life anyway.

But tonight, why had she been so jumpy? Yes, usually her jobs were dangerous, and she had been on a once in a blue moon break when she had gotten the call, but had she really thought for a moment that she could afford to fucking slip up?

It was late and she decided to walk back to the motel the way she came. She didn't even sense the presence of the man behind her due to her nearly smashed state from the drinks earlier that night.

He put his hand on her shoulder and before she even realized what she had done, she had stabbed the back of it and pinned him against the wall.

"Hey! I-I was just gonna ask you if you wanted a good time- Oww! You little bitch!" The guy was six feet, a total string bean who looked like he walked out of a rap music video. And damn, he was mad and probably had friends with guns. He managed to free himself and tried to swing at her, but she landed one in his jewels. He clutched his pants, gasping. What did he expect? Street fighters don't make rules about below the belt.

"You gonna pay for that!" He backhand smacked her hard across the face and she fell into the wall. That's when she noticed the sheen of a 9 mil in his back pocket. He seemed to remember it too and made to draw it.

She didn't let him. She slashed at his baggy shirt, painful enough to distract him, and followed up with slamming him into the gravel. He stumbled back to his feet and lunged at her but she swerved and rammed into him, grabbing his gun in the process. He froze and put his hands up – she could tell by the weight that it was fully loaded.

She made a motion with the gun for him to go and he scampered down the street out of sight. She leaned up against the wall, catching her breath. That earlier hit on her forehead hurt like hell and she really didn't want to have an asthma attack in an alley.

That's how Allison Cameron found her.

* * *

Ok, so the grammatical errors of last chapter got pointed out so I reuploaded it. I honestly thought I went over it, sorry for the inconvenience. This one I read twice *crosses fingers*. I'm glad I have people's interests peaked. Like I said, this is actually going somewhere (as much as I would love to set the image of Thirteen-assassin on inifinite replay) so let me hear your thoughts.


	3. Chapter 3

"Are you always this compassionate towards total strangers?"

She was dressed in Cameron's 'The Killers' t-shirt and striped pajama pants, since her clothes weren't in the best condition. The doctor had cleaned her head wound (she had screamed some very colorful words) and gave her aspirin.

"You wouldn't be a stranger if you told me your name." Cameron countered, checking her eyes with a pen light. She sighed. "Congratulations, you have a concussion."

"Remy." Why had she let her real name slip? Oh, right. "I don't have a concussion, I'm drunk."

"No last name?"

"Nope," Remy said, regaining her composure.

"Any reason you were out past midnight alone downtown?" She never shut up, did she?

"Any reason you were?" Remy stood up. "I'll wash you're clothes and get them back to you." She headed for the door.

Cameron grabbed her arm, throwing her off balance and making her stumble over her feet. "Whoa, there, didn't you hear me when I said concussion? Difficulty balancing, light sensitivity, difficulty _focusing_-"Cameron snapped her fingers to get Remy's attention back towards her. "Regardless, your head probably feels like a jackhammer is drilling through your skull-"

"Yeah, I got that!" Remy slurred. Apparently, she had a concussion _and _was drunk. "That's why I'm going back to where I came from. Anything beyond that really isn't your problem."

"Why are you being so damn stubborn?" Cameron matched her volume. If this was a pissing contest she could hold her own.

"I almost got fucking mugged in the alley outside your building, other than that there's no reason you should give a damn about me! Just-"Damn, it felt like that jackhammer brought a friend the chainsaw. Why couldn't this bitch just let her-?

The brunette swayed a bit and Cameron caught her midway, gently lowering her down. She checked her pulse and sighed. She really was too compassionate for her own good.

* * *

Remy didn't know how long she had been out before she woke up, but she figured it was quite awhile. She groaned in pain as bright lights flooded her eyes. The previous night was certainly catching up with her.

Cameron had been dozing in the loveseat next to the bed, she stirred at the noise. "Hey," She said softly. "How're you feeling?"

The brunette sighed. "Uh…like crap. What happened?"

"You passed out. I made sure you weren't in a coma." Cameron explained, stretching slightly.

Only then did Remy realize she was in a large bedroom. It had warm colors, clean sheets… she wondered how long it had been since someone had actually tucked her in. Not that Cameron really had a choice. She reluctantly sat up. "Thank you… for everything. But I need to get going."

Cameron's eyebrows furrowed, confused. She thought for a moment before speaking. "I get that, really. But with what happened last night, you really should let me check you out at the hospital."

Remy immediately shook her head. "I hate hospitals. And I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself. But…" She climbed out of bed and onto the loveseat with Cameron. "Is there any way I can repay you?" Her words flowed like a morning breeze in the older doctor's ear, making her shiver.

"Are you a stripper by day?" She joked meekly. Remy smiled and moved a bit closer.

"Something like that," God, she was so close. "I guarantee I could give you a good show." Cameron could see the sun shining through Remy's lashes. Her lips were so pink…

The insistent ringing of a distant cell phone could not have come at a worse time. Both women jumped back at the noise and Remy scrambled to the bedside table to answer it.

"What?" The brunette snapped at the person at the other end, making Cameron jump. She either really hated the person or really hated them for calling.

Remy's eyes widened as the person talked. "Yes, I- No, but- Yes I know! I know, but- No, I got-" She looked down at the floor. "I'm sorry. It won't happen again." She paused before sighing. "Yeah, I know. I'll call you later." And with that she hung up, mumbling a few choice words under her breath.

By now, Cameron was thoroughly confused. "Boyfriend?"

"Don't have a boyfriend."

"Girlfriend?"

Remy's neck snapped around to look at her, taken aback that she had the nerve to ask that. "It was my boss."

"Your boss is more concerned with where you are than your boyfriend?"

"In my line of work, bosses are total asses. And _girlfriends_ are only girlfriends for one night." Remy tried to smile, but Cameron noticed that her whole body had tensed compared to a few moments ago.

"We have something in common." Cameron stood up and stretched a little more. Remy raised her eyebrows at the fact that she hadn't noted _which_ they had in common.

The older doctor noticed a small bloodstain seeping through the shirt Remy was wearing. As Remy was paying no attention, she lightly grazed the spot. Instantly the young woman stiffened and hissed sharply in pain. Cameron met her gaze and was met with a spiteful glare. "What," Remy drew out her words for effect. "The… HELL…was that for?" She drew her hands to her shoulder protectively.

Cameron held her ground firm and spoke steadily. "Look, I don't know what you're going through. All I know is that there's a reason you were in the alley outside my apartment considerably buzzed. And there's a reason your shoulder is bleeding, because it shouldn't be. You obviously don't like being here." She paused to gauge her reaction – indifference well-perfected over the years. "But you need to let me take a look."

Remy promptly stood up to leave –she had put up with this long enough – but was overcome by a wave of dizziness. Fuck, she hated hangovers. She swayed momentarily but kept her balance this time, and waited for the room to stop spinning.

She hated swallowing whatever so-called pride she had.

"Okay."

* * *

Hope this chapter was enjoyable, because unfortunately the next one is very short. Thank you everyone who has reviewed/alerted/helped me out with this story, it's definitely helped. I'm going to be busy over the next few days, so it may be awhile before I have time to write *sigh*. For anyone faithfully following my chronicles/rants about my biology teacher, she was not very amused by my report. It was pretty funny, actually.


	4. Chapter 4

"Really, what were you thinking, trying to stitch this yourself?" Cameron sighed, exasperated. Tossing aside of the girl's shirt had revealed impeccably toned abs, muscular arms, and beautiful breasts. Also blatantly noticable were ugly bruises, multiple cuts with gauze stuffed in and hurriedly taped down, and the bleeding stab wound that had caught her attention.

"I know how to sew, I figured – FUCK! Stop using that stuff!" Remy hissed as the blonde dabbed rubbing alcohol on the injury.

"You think that hurts, wait 'til I stitch this up the right way. You're lucky you aren't septic by now. How long ago did this happen?" Really, what was this chick's compulsive need to know everything? Her boyfriend must get really bad headaches.

"Two, three days," She let out a small whimper, "Holy shit, you're making it hurt more than it did in the first place!"

"Wound care is a bitch. Hold still." Cameron instructed, attaching a fresh piece of gauze. "Okay, that should do it. You'll need to come see me to get the stitches out in three to five days, whenever it's almost healed."

Remy exhaled audibly, feeling like she was a fourth grader when she wanted to play with the big kids. She played with _plenty_ of big kids and got along just fine – most of the time. "Do you have any painkillers?" She asked, putting on a different shirt.

Cameron rummaged through the medicine cabinet before finding a secret stash of vicodin she kept on the off chance House would need it. "Take two now, two later."

Remy dry swallowed them all at once. "Oops," She grinned before standing up, feeling the high from the pills already. "I'm sorry about your shirt. I'll get your clothes back to you."

The doctor walked her to the door. "Take care of yourself." She said softly as Remy had her hand on the handle. She nodded, giving her an awkward, half way smile.

She walked out of that apartment building not changed, she told herself. She was doing just fine on her own, thank you very much. She'd rip out her stitches and had no plans on returning the clothes. This Allison Cameron obviously cared for people, for her. Too bad she didn't give a damn.

* * *

Ok, this was fun to write. Mostly because of all the swearing. I have got to get some writing done though, probably in school. Thank you the people who spared a moment of their lives to write a review! *sarcastic tone there* Hope you enjoyed.


	5. Chapter 5

Ok, somehow I managed to get some writing done yesterday, so I give you what many have been asking about/for (since it had already been planned ages ago). There is a song in here, Peachy by Missy Higgins (Which I don't own!), which was too addictive for me to leave out. So if you want to be nerdy like me find it online and listen as you read. Or listen to the song, then read, I don't care. Regardless, enjoy.

* * *

It had been a week since Allison Cameron had stumbled upon a mysterious figure she knew only as Remy outside her building. Turns out, that same night some drug dealer was found dead in a parking garage only blocks away. She hadn't thought her neighborhood was like that. Other than that, her life was exactly the same... ok, who was she kidding? The woman had been so hot that she'd all but fixated on her smell, her hair, her gorgeous eyes, and everything else she remembered from that night. So here she was, sitting at the exact same bar, just hoping that this was the bar that _she_ had been drinking at.

She downed her third drink. She hadn't hit the hard stuff so she wouldn't wake up hung over, but she was so sick of work. House was being such an ass these days, probably because Foreman had totally messed up the case and given _chemo_ to a patient with an infection. He was supposedly resigning, but she didn't believe it. He wasn't smart enough to be House and was too arrogant to be hired elsewhere. Pretty soon her thoughts were back on Remy, and she was just pissed off enough to take a vodka shot.

A swinging guitar came on with a steady drumbeat. The woman's slightly accented alto voice spoke right to her about all this crap. She might as well dance.

_It's not my fault_

_It can't be my fault_

_That you speak to me the way you do_

_Now I'm split in two _

_I'm half me and half you_

_But I hate us both, don't you? _

Somewhere in the first three lines, a woman had taken her hand. It was much too dark to see, but Cameron didn't care. She smelled, under the smell of some kind of Irish liquor, like Remy.

_No of course you don't of course you don't_

_You say life is peachy without me_

_Of course you don't of course you don't_

_You say life is peachy without me_

Yes, life was just _peachy_. She just had to get this girl out of her head. The woman spun her out and back into her arms. From the feel she was muscular, but lean and curvy…hot.

_It's not your fault _

_It can't be your fault_

_That I let you crawl inside my head_

_Cos now you know my places _

_And you know that face_

_But I hate this taste, don't you?_

She felt a hand snake its way up her shirt, lips pressing urgently on hers. She led the woman off the dance floor and out to her car.

_No of course you don't of course you don't_

_You say life is peachy without me_

_Of course you don't of course you don't_

_You say life is peachy without me_

All of her coherent were on the woman in the front seat of the car. How had she sunk so low?

_Un-grip me_

_Un-learn me_

_Un-grip me_

She fumbled with the keys, but once the door was shut and they were in the bedroom, the woman feverishly attacked her mouth. She moaned and felt something being transferred from the woman's mouth to hers. This chick didn't mess around. She swallowed the pill and enjoyed the floating feeling for the next few hours with the stranger.

_It's no-ones fault_

_It's nobody's fault _

_That I fell on you and you on me_

_That's what humans do_

_As they pass on through_

_But I think we can't, don't you? _

That one night of meth felt like hell afterwards, but ex was a little milder she supposed. She knew, in the back of her mind, a voice was screaming that she shouldn't even be able to _compare_ the two. She ought to try marijuana next.

_No of course you don't of course you don't_

_You say life is peachy without me_

_Of course you don't of course you don't_

The woman next to her emitted a muffled groan. She was facing her back, where fresh scratch marks were visible. Oh god, had she done that? She wondered vaguely if she had torn up Chase that bad.

The woman turned over, and shining, feline eyes met hers.

"Hey beautiful," Remy smirked.

_You say life is peachy without me. _

Shit.


	6. Chapter 6

To save time and energy, I'm replying to a few reviews here:

JB: No, she's not, just my weird adjective use. I don't think I could pull something that sexy off.

PlushPanda: Thank you ^^ Glad you're enjoying.

Now for the show~

* * *

"Get out."

"You invited me in a week ago, but after I sleep with you I have to leave?"

"You drugged me!"

"Oh shut up, that definitely wasn't your first time with a woman."

"That's not the point, I- what the fuck is funny about this?"

Remy exhaled, smiling at her slightly. "It's funny because you're totally freaking out. It's like you got caught making out under the bleachers."

"Being drugged and sleeping with a hooker isn't as bad?"

"You were at that bar for a reason. I just thought you should have some fun." Remy said.

"Stop acting like this isn't a big deal!"

"It isn't!"

Cameron chuckled haughtily, "Maybe not where you come from."

"See, that's another thing about you," The brunette said, putting a hand on her now clothed hip. "You think you're so much better than me because you're some fancy doctor? Hell, you were at that bar because underneath all this caring shit you're life is so miserable that you're just taking it out on me."

"And you've obviously done something _great_ with yourself!" Cameron shouted, fed up with the woman. "Really, what is it that you do? Will I find you on a street corner or do you have some druggie boyfriend that likes the skank outfits?"

Without hesitation, Remy slapped her. She drew out her words to echo the pain radiating through Cameron's face. "People do what they have to. I got dealt a bad hand, that's all. Stop trying to fix me, worry about yourself."

She was at the doorway before Cameron spoke again despite her throbbing cheek. "I never said you needed fixing."

The brunette turned slowly. Cameron swallowed, clutching the metalwork at the edge of the bed. "I don't want to fight you. I just want to know your story."

Remy thought it over for a moment, staring down at the carpeted floor.

Finally, she nodded reached for the notepad on the bedside table and scribbled something down. She stood up and handed it to Cameron.

"If you really want to know, show up here tonight around seven." She said firmly. With that she walked swiftly out of the condo. Their gazes met for only a second, but Cameron swore she saw a shine in the younger woman's that could only have been tears.

* * *

Ok, I woke up a little mad. This was actually supposed to be tacked onto chapter 5, but I don't really care. It just means I might add two tomorrow! :) Next chapter will have some rather crucial info in regards to Remy's actual job.


	7. Chapter 7

"Didn't think you'd show," She said, barely audible among the shouts, sirens, and subways beneath them.

"Sorry, next time I'll fly over the Brooklyn Bridge." Cameron crossed her arms to try and stop the wind from blowing her skin off. They were on top of one of the numerous apartment complexes in New York City, this one overlooking Mercy Hospital.

Remy turned to face her. Her eyes looked tired and slightly bloodshot – she'd probably been drinking again. Cameron sighed; at this rate Remy's liver would go before House's.

"Sorry," The brunette said when she saw the doctor blatantly shivering. She slipped the jacket she was wearing off and stood up to put it around Cameron's shoulders.

"No, I'm fine." The wind on top of the building easily dropped the temperature to below 50 degrees, but she felt bad to see Remy apologizing. She was the one who felt guilty, for starting their earlier fight and making Remy was crawl back inside a bottle.

"It's nice to have pockets." Remy put the coat on her, carefully sliding the front over her shoulders in a caress despite her drunkenness. She didn't seem to mind the cold. Cameron nodded in acknowledgement.

They sat there watching and listening to the city going by in front of them for awhile.

Finally, the brunette spoke. "So you want to hear it?"

Cameron had almost forgotten the reason she was here. "Uh, yeah," She managed.

Remy opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She swallowed the lump before Cameron could notice. Cameron, of course, had been watching her and saw, but didn't say anything. "This…this stays between us."

"Of course," The blonde said quickly.

"I mean it," Remy warned, bending down and taking a swig of a bottle previously obscured by a pipe. "You're goody-goodyness may be put to the test here."

Cameron laughed quietly. "I'm not that nice." Remy raised an eyebrow.

"After I tell you mine, I want to hear yours." She slurred.

"Fine," The doctor agreed, beginning to worry about carrying Remy down the stairs if she passed out.

Remy took another sip and set down the now nearly empty bottle of alcohol. "I'm not sure if you'll even believe me."

"I've been told I'm gullible." Cameron replied. In all honesty, this woman could have told her that she was a flamingo and she might have believed her.

This finally seemed to give Remy the push she needed. She looked up at the stars – the ones that were visible in the NYC sky – and started to speak. "Well, to start, the night you met me I had killed a man."

* * *

"What?"

She wasn't sure how long it had taken her tongue to get unstuck from the top of her mouth to form the word. What had she said?

"Told you, you might not believe me," Remy muttered. "I killed that mob boss. It was in the papers."

Cameron's mind flashed back to the news story she had watched only a week ago. Her eyes went wide.

"Over the past few years, he's been at the top of shipping in drugs from South America. It was a multimillion dollar exchange, and the FBI knew about at least twelve people that have been killed by his direct orders. Last week he ordered a hit on a ten year old boy." Remy further explained.

Cameron felt her heart rate quicken, remembering the shootings plaguing the news. Most nights she turned it off before it could depress her too much. "You work for the FBI?"

"No," She said, sighing, "They come to me. I can work around the whole 'probable cause' bit and they don't have to worry about getting their hands dirty."

Cameron felt herself becoming increasingly numb as she absorbed the information. "Is he okay?"

Remy nodded towards the hospital. "They made it in time. He's recovering from a hit to the head with the butt the gun, room 314."

Cameron wondered if she had gone to see him, but didn't pose the question she more than likely knew the answer to.

They sat in heavy, freezing silence before the doctor finally spoke again, having to know. "How many people have you killed?"

Remy chuckled dryly and started to shake her head. "I lost count awhile back."

Her voice cracked – they were coming back. Faces, voices…they were haunting her, screaming at her. Every time she thought she could keep them down, they –

"Hey, are you okay?" Cameron asked. She noted her increasingly erratic breath.

Remy held up a finger and buried her face in her hands. The doctor put a hand on her freezing back, making her jump. Cameron rubbed it soothingly and it seemed to help her calm down. "You have asthma?" City pollutants were enough to make anyone's lungs inflamed.

Remy nodded, her racing heart finally slowing. She was okay, she was with Cameron.

Cameron shrugged off the jacket and boldly wrapped herself and the younger woman. To her surprise, Remy didn't push her away. The brunette actually scooted in closer, kicking the bottle at her feet away.

"Let's go inside," Cameron said quietly. She felt overwhelmed with all of the emotions running through her, but the welfare of the woman in her arms seemed to take priority.

Remy bobbed her head and managed to stand up and walk a few feet to behind a power box before unintentionally expelling her stomach of the alcohol and bile. She coughed and spit the taste out of her mouth, silently cursing her low alcohol tolerance, before Cameron caught up to help her.

Remy muttered some words of thanks as the blonde slung her arm around her shoulder and they walked back to the freight elevator. It was getting darker and Cameron didn't like this building. She found a key in the pocket of the jacket with the sequence 13C engraved on it, so they headed to the thirteenth floor.

She quickly unlocked the door, not paying much attention to anything else other than the location of the master bedroom. Remy's half open eyes instantly fell shut when they reached the bed. Cameron made her way back through the apartment to lock the door and get the woman some aspirin for when she woke up. She now noted the bare walls, sparse furniture, and nearly empty fridge. More pressing was the lack of guest bedroom or couch.

She crept back into the master bedroom to gaze upon a sleeping Remy. The blonde prayed that her car wouldn't be stolen, and silently slipped out of her shoes. She climbed into bed with the young woman for the second time now. Cameron brushed a stray lock of hair out of her face taking in how truly beautiful Remy was.

She noticed the brunette's brow become furrowed and her fist tighten. Her heart fell as her mind flashed back to earlier. On the roof, it hadn't been an asthma attack. It had almost definitely been a panic attack. There were thousands of questions she wanted to ask the enigma of the woman, but she would only know the answers with time.

She sighed. There was no possible one worse that she could fall for.

* * *

Longest chapter yet, it really typed itself. There's obviously more to both of their stories, but hopefully this helps. I'm really glad everyone is enjoying this story! Reviews (and pancakes) make me very happy.


	8. Chapter 8

The bright morning sun pouring into the New York flat awoke the brunette. She sighed to herself; it had been one of the most peaceful nights she had had in awhile. Realizing the date, however, she groaned. It was Tuesday, that meant work. She exhaled a long breath and turned over, right into another body.

Both women jumped, one shrieked, and one rolled back around and out of bed. Remy made a muffled grunt as she hit the floor.

"You okay?" A voice, still raw from sleep, called.

"Mhm," Remy managed, rubbing her head. At least the floor was carpeted, and she was extremely thankful for her lack of hangover.

Cameron peered over guiltily from the bed. Remy tried to look mad, but Cameron's ever-changing eyes, messy blonde hair and warmly sunbathed skin make her want to eat the doctor up like a peach. She shook off her ever so dirty mind this early in the morning.

"I'm sorry, I thought you had left." The brunette said, unsuccessfully trying to pry her feet out of the twisted sheets.

Cameron held out her hands which Remy gratefully took, attempting to hide her blush. "It's New York. I wasn't going to sit through two hours of traffic on a Monday night while worrying about leaving you passed out and alone. And you didn't have a couch, so…" She shrugged her shoulders.

Remy nodded, "My job doesn't pay much, and I wouldn't have time to go furniture shopping."

Cameron frowned, confused. "Not that one," The brunette clarified, "The one that's lousy salary shows up on my taxes."

"Oh," The blonde said, feeling rather dumb. Of course she had another job. Though, she supposed that the FBI could overpower the IRS.

"Actually," Remy said, glancing at the clock, "I need to get ready to leave. I'm sorry since you'll probably be late because of me."

"No," Cameron shook her head, "I resigned last night, after one of my coworkers killed a patient and the other was fired."

"Wow," Remy stopped taking off her shirt midway, revealing her sexy (and to Cameron's relief, wound free) midriff, "That reminds me, I got too drunk for you to tell me your story, didn't I?" She blushed sheepishly.

Cameron nodded. She tried not to let it get to her that out of the three times she had met the brunette, she had been intoxicated each time. Then again, she herself had also been smashed for two out of three. "It's a pretty long, boring one anyway."

"Nobody's life is boring," Remy said quickly as she walked into the bathroom, "Well, maybe a nun's. You aren't a nun though, so you should have a semi-interesting life."

The blonde couldn't help but smile. "Well, I did have one gorgeous classmate in my senior year at my Catholic high school who liked to-"

"Do NOT finish that sentence." Remy warned, popping out of the doorframe with a toothbrush in her mouth. Now she'd have fantasies about Cameron in one of those plaid skirts that barely brushed her thighs. "Those uniforms were crafted by Satan."

Cameron chuckled. "Do you have any clothes I could wear?"

"Yeah," She leaned back into spit out the toothpaste. "I promise I actually have respectable clothing." She threw out some jeans and a cotton tee, which Cameron caught.

"Where do you work?" Cameron asked as she walked into the closet to change. Most decent paying jobs wouldn't let employees dress so informally.

"At a homeless shelter," Remy explained, pulling on some comfortable shoes. "Do you want to help out? I mean, since you have nothing better to do."

Cameron struggled to imagine such a pessimist working at a place where hope was the main gift. But she made a good point. "Sure, why not?"

Remy gave her a small grin. "We better get going then. You'll think a doctor's shift is a piece of cake afterwards."

"I'll bet,"

* * *

Just a short bit before I go back to hell. For once I have nothing else to say :)


	9. Chapter 9

Cameron was submerged up to her elbows in suds one minute, then rushing across the room to serve on the barely dried dishes the next. She was achy and sweating buckets with a headache from the sheer level of noise caused by the clinking forks, footsteps, shouts, and taxis zooming by outside. How did people do this everyday? It was worse than the ER after a ten car pile-up.

Remy, on the other hand, was having a ball. She knew it would be amusing to stick the doctor in with the veterans for the lunch shift, but she was sure that the room had never been filled with so much laughter. There had been the incident with the spilt soup, then hot sauce was switched with dishwasher detergent…she had to agree that laughter was always the best medicine. Sights like this made her smile.

When the lunch rush was over, she directed Cameron to their infirmary (they had a small clinic, which was always packed) and she turned her attention to the other part of the shelter. She thought that sometimes she was torturing herself, going there everyday. It was for the people who had nowhere else to go – the old men lost in their own minds, battered wives, teens kicked out of their homes – until they figured out what they were doing, where they could go. Nobody ever stayed more than a week. In retrospect, each person was only marked by fleeting thoughts, but hopefully at least one would remember the woman with blue eyes who helped them like nobody else could have.

It was half past nine before the rush of people finally slowed. It was summer, so it was still only twilight. Cameron hadn't meant to stay so long or work so hard, but there was _no_ way she could make it home. She felt so wimpy lying on a couch in a corner (so much for running), compared to women twice her age who still bustled past her. She had a nagging suspicion that Remy had set her up for a lot more than her fair share of bitch work.

"Allison," A plump middle-aged redhead, Lynn or Liz something, called, "Take Remy home, will you? I need to use the office tonight."

"She's still working?" Cameron asked. Granted, she was still working too, but there were scheduled work hours and their shift had ended an hour ago.

"Still working? Dear Lord, I practically have to force her to go home every night. I don't understand it. We're a nonprofit group supported by some anonymous donor, so there's no overtime. She's the best of the best really, runs everything ship-shape, but she's too young to work her hands to the bone." Lynn, she was pretty sure anyway, said. "And sometimes she won't show up for a week! I don't know how we'd keep it running if one day she didn't come back. She doesn't tell me anything, mind, no sir. I didn't even_ know_ she had a friend until she brought you." Someone called the redhead over and she gave a small wave.

Cameron waved back and made some excuse to leave the room for anyone who cared, feeling her chest tighten as the information sunk in. After wandering the halls for a few minutes, she located the office (which was hardly larger than a cubicle) and walked in without knocking, expecting to find the young woman she needed to talk to hard at work.

Remy had fallen asleep at the desk, drooling slightly with paper sticking to her face. Cameron ran a hand through her blonde hair, finally grasping an understanding. This was Remy's rationalization, a catharsis for her guilty conscious. Did she figure that donating her money and working herself to death helping others would make what she was doing okay? The argument seemed hypocritical at best. There was no doubt that she was suffering, Cameron just couldn't figure out why she would put herself through this.

A floorboard groaned beneath her feet, startling the younger woman awake. She looked up and sighed slightly.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." Cameron apologized.

"You seem to do that a lot," Remy replied in her ever so smartass way, "Power nap," She explained as she peeled the sticky note off her cheek.

Cameron gave the woman a grin. "You drool,"

Remy rolled her eyes, "Shut up." She stole a glance at the time. "Wow, it's late. I thought you would have left by now."

"Why would I leave?" Cameron asked.

The brunette shrugged, but before she could answer verbally a grumbling sound was heard. Cameron put her hand over her stomach and they both chuckled. "Do you want to go get some dinner? There's this great dive by my place."

"Well, I really wanted to try some of your cauldron soup, but I suppose so." Cameron joked.

Remy stood up to get her coat and hit the blonde's shoulder playfully. "After you nearly spilled dish soap in it, I wouldn't let you touch my world famous soup with a 39 and a ½ foot pole!"

Cameron smacked her hand over her face. "Did you really just compare me to The Grinch?"

"It's Christmas in June," The brunette said as they walked out, waving to anyone they passed.

After they exited the building's double doors, Cameron snaked her fingers through Remy's. The young woman looked at her in a mix of shock and confusion, to which the blonde smiled knowingly. "If it's Christmas, dinner with you is one hell of a present."

Remy's slightly open lips gradually formed a grin, which in turn became a smirk. "You'll eat like a queen."

"I'm sure."

* * *

I want to note that I wrote the Grinch reference LONG before David Shore! Jerk, hacking into my computer and stealing my lines! If you'll go insane missing Thirteen after last night, raise your hand *raises two hands* The Camteen affair had a fight, that's why Cameron looked so sad.


	10. Chapter 10

They were in a rather dingy bar a block away from Remy's place. Cameron had taken her word that they had the best rotisserie chicken in the city, and they sure as hell did. They sat in the back left corner booth, where the seat had fraying holes on her side. The light, senseless music and muffled chatter made it rather warm.

"So," Remy started, feeling suddenly awkward. Both women had been so hungry that they had neglected any kind of dinner conversation, effectively losing the spark between them earlier that evening.

"So…" Cameron repeated. They both stared at the wooden table for a few seconds. "What do you want to talk about?"

Remy took a strand of her hair and started twirling it around her finger. She hated hard conversations if she was sober, it was like therapy. "I'd rather talk about you. I'm not a very chatty-Kathy."

Cameron grinned. "And I am?"

"You're an extrovert," Remy argued.

"I'm neither," Cameron argued back, "But it's interesting that you think so."

"Maybe if I knew more than five things about you, I'd say otherwise." The brunette said as the waiter came back with their receipt and a bottle of tequila.

"What five things would that be?" The doctor asked.

"The first four are boring, but you definitely like to be on top." Remy said with a completely straight face. "Now stop deflecting. After what I told you last night, whatever you tell me won't measure up."

"Now who wants to fix people?" Cameron said, pouring her drink.

"I couldn't fix you even if I tried." She said simply, "And you can't fix me. We're oil and water; unmixable."

"So which one are you?" The blonde questioned.

Remy gave her a coy smile. "Like I said, you're on top."

"You're saying I have a more complex chemical equation." Cameron pointed out.

"Humans are complicated," Remy replied.

"You're simple." Cameron stated, holding up a shot glass and licking the back of her hand. "Oxygen is free radical. It'll zoom around until something bumps it into two hydrogen molecules." She held the lime between her fingers and sprinkled the salt, "Get them all together," She took the shot and scrunched up her face at the taste. "And it's one _nasty_ chemical reaction."

She sucked on the lime for a moment before pursing her lips. "I just don't know what made you bond."

The brunette hadn't realized it, but she had been leaning forward the whole time. Anyone who could turn a chemical formula into such an alluring metaphor was, to say the least, interesting.

"So I suppose," Remy whispered, "if we aren't careful, you could catch on fire?"

They sat in silence for a moment.

"Would you let me burn?" Cameron asked.

Remy took Cameron's left hand in her own, softly grazing her fingers, noting the slight tan differences. "Do you think I would?"

Their eyes met, Remy's strong cerulean ones pouring into Cameron's baby blues. Finally, Cameron spoke again. "It was when I was twenty-one."

* * *

Thank you iyimgrace for telling me how to do the shot. This chapter was very slow to form, but I think it's growing on me. This is the end of the fluff for awhile, angst ahead. I have to take my PSAT today so wish me good luck, I didn't study at all :)


	11. Chapter 11

"His name was Daniel." She started, "We met on our first day in college, very first class." She spoke quietly, remembering everything about the moment.

Remy smiled softly but listened hard, observing the blonde.

Cameron pushed away the rest of the alcohol, lest she be tempted. It certainly wouldn't be the first time. "He forgot his pencil, so I lent him mine." Their eyes met, sharing a sentimental smile. "I think love at first sight is a cliché, but I got butterflies, I blushed, the whole nine yards."

Remy nodded, though she had never felt any such emotions. "I only dated guys during high school, but I had just broken up with my first girlfriend. I was still feeling the hurt, so we flirted a bit for a month and he asked me to homecoming. He was as straight an arrow as they came, but he was sweet and caring…" Cameron continued.

"We dated for three years. They were the best years of my life. Then…" She stopped. She hated this part: the evil witch to their fairytale life, casting a spell of sorrow and eternal sleep.

"He hadn't been feeling well for a few weeks, so we went to see the doctor. They found," She exhaled a rattling sigh, trying to form the words. Remy gave her a slight nod, as if she knew. "It was thyroid cancer, which had metastasized to his brain. We got married…and six months later…he…"

Remy silently stood up from her side of the booth and slid in next to Cameron. The doctor wrapped her arms around her tightly, her eyes shining with unshed tears. How were there still tears left?

"I never…" Her voice pitch changed from high to a cracked lower octave as she fought to keep from crying, "want to live through something that again. I…loved him, but I hated it…so much."

By now tears were streaming down her cheeks, illuminated by the bar lights but only visible to the younger brunette. Remy let Cameron bury her face into the crook of her neck and ran a hand through her hair while the other rubbed her back.

Remy whispered sweet nothings as sobs and waves of emotions crashed through the woman in her arms. She let her soak through her cotton shirt, feeling worse every second. How could she have let herself be so stupid, letting this woman in?

"I'm sorry," Cameron choked out, finally wiping her eyes and nose on her sleeve.

Remy closed her eyes for a second trying to find any words of comfort she could give. When none came to her, she opened her eyes to see Cameron looking back at her. She looked tired, but somehow renewed, stronger… stronger than her.

"Maybe we should go." Cameron finally murmured. Remy, thankful they had paid the tab, nodded. The walk went quickly and before they really realized it they were back at Remy's flat. Remy convinced the blonde to get some sleep, and she stood by the door until her breathing finally slowed.

She had to stop this before it began.

* * *

Gah, yes, the Cameron comfort chapter. At least that last line should have you thinking! I found it fun to write the backstory different from Options though. 2 things: 1. I've been told I update very quickly. I can slow down anytime if that's bugging you! (j/k) 2. As I'm sure you know, you all rock :)


	12. Chapter 12

Remy went back into the main room of the apartment, slumping into the breakfast bench by the large window, her thoughts racing.

She couldn't fathom how her life could have changed so radically. Looming over her was what Cameron said earlier. Was it worth taking the chance, getting tested? Could she even see herself getting involved with the woman? Hell, of course she could. One minute her mind was as clear as an underground cavern stream, and the next lightning had blown a massive hole in the roof and caused a cave in.

She needed to calm down, maybe read one of the thousands of books on the living room shelf. They were the Bureau's, complete with the rest of the shitty furniture. She let her head fall onto the table, commanding her mind to focus.

A faint but persistent buzzing sound demanded her attention from the other side of the room. A shudder went through her body.

Not now, anytime but now.

She snatched up the pager and skimming it, eyes widening.

With not even a second to consider, Remy slammed it back down and made for the bedroom. After grabbing her clothes, she crawled over to the bed. She unlocked the safe under the sheet hanging off the side and pulled it out. She bit her lip, seeing the weapons shining up at her. Before she could think twice, she strapped on three concealed knives and started to load the gun.

Only then was she suddenly aware of the absence of steady breath in the room.

"Don't go," Cameron whispered. "You don't have to keep doing this."

Remy kept her head down. She had this battle internally every time; if Cameron was there, that side would eventually win. "Yes," She tried to sound firm, "I do."

Cameron clutched the sheet tighter. "Then let me come with you."

"I don't think that's a good idea." Remy said coolly, continuing to slowly load the bullets.

"What if you get shot this time? Bullet wounds are a hell of a lot worse than stab wounds." Cameron said sternly. Remy continued to ignore her. "You have to stop this!"

Remy finally looked up. Cameron gasped. Her eyes were hollow, almost dead, and her jaw was set. The younger woman locked the safe and kicked it back under the bed before standing up.

"I'm sorry, "She said, barely above a whisper. "I've gotta go."

Cameron bit her lip. Before she left, Remy turned around. This was her opportunity. "You know what I've got to do, and if you can't stand it…don't be here when I get back."

The brunette shut the door, leaving Cameron alone in the room. She quickly let the front door slam and ran down the stairs. Cameron stared at the door, stunned.

Remy's walk turned into a jog, then into a sprint. When she finally stopped, her heart was racing but she hadn't relieved any of this feeling in her chest. Though she didn't know it, for the first time in her life she felt a new emotion: heartache.

Cameron didn't go after her, but sat by the window. When the small figure she knew as Remy finally vanished behind a building, she slammed her hand into the window and a whole new batch of tears came forth. Why the hell was all of this happening?

She glanced tentatively at the door.

* * *

Oh no! *waits for everyone to scream 'don't go!' at Cameron* I think I might stop updating on purpose to torture you now. This marks the last of the short chapters, finally one over 1000 words is coming up. Happy Friday, even though it's pouring here.


	13. Chapter 13

Her breath came in sharp gasps, released in acidic puffs. The night had allowed for a sneak attack of freezing rain and wind, weighing her down and biting her face. She had made it up a few steps before she gripped the wall roughly, her lungs feeling hot and hollow. She had to get out, their silencers hadn't been on. Cops could only be a few blocks away.

She couldn't move. It hadn't been one hit, it had been four. Two entrances, not one, damn it. Her eyes dropped to the man at her feet. He, standing at the door, had seen her walk down the concrete stairs first, but he hadn't shot her. Standing up, he had slurred a question as to why she was there. Had she wanted to entertain them?

Her eyes had quickly scanned the room he was guarding: three guns, all loaded, two drunks, four against one. She had let him run his hand along her thigh, and then when he made to touch her chest she had stabbed him in the gut.

He yelled in agony. She drew her gun and shot him point blank in the head. The sounds startled the men and they tried to get to their guns, but she continued to massacre. One bullet for the teen shot down on the street, the next for the convenience store clerk shot in the stomach. Quickly she followed with a third, for the man with three kids who had gotten in a bad situation.

She chuckled. And they all fell down.

It wasn't a feeling she enjoyed. It was just a feeling. Everything besides this feeling was weaker, like soda gone flat. Recently she had felt a little odd, but this was her constant. It reassured her that she was alive, for now, and she mattered…

She tried to take deep breaths, staring at the water droplets landing from her hair. She ran a freezing gloved hand over her forehead. A job never affected her like this. She felt sick. She stood up straight from her previous position of bent, shaky knees, and pushed herself off the wall with her right arm.

A searing pain shot through the limb, causing her to gasp. Her hand grazed the spot and she had to clench her teeth. She flipped (or rather, let her feet stumble over one another) so that her back was against the exposed brick, and sure enough a partial bullet was lodged in the wall opposite the door.

A dreaded revelation reached her. Her arm was bleeding, that meant evidence. The bullet in the wall had her DNA on it. She gripped her concealed knife and chipped the bullet fragments out, stuffing them in her pocket. She looked around the room quickly; no bleach, but their booze would do. She took the bottle from the table with her left hand and poured it out anywhere her blood might have dripped. She took little comfort in the fact that the FBI could always cover her up. Half of her DNA was in the system, and the other half was in a number of hospital records.

Sirens roared. "Damn it," She breathed. New York's finest were coming.

She slipped out the door in the back of the room and found herself in a partially renovated apartment. Made sense, the boss made his money on white collar crimes. She walked through it, jay-walked across the deserted street, and then cut through another alley before she found a crate to rest on. She pulled out the pager and called the only number on it.

"Yes?" A low voice answered immediately.

"It's Thirteen," She answered quietly, "Hit successful, but you're an idiot."

"How so, _agent?" _He asked with a hint of authority.

"Your undercover agents got everything wrong. I could have died with that much faulty info." She spat into the phone. The fabric of her jacket above the wound shifted and she let out a small cry.

"Are you hurt?" His voice suddenly became urgent.

"Just a scratch," She lied, "I'll be okay. You need to get your people on the investigation, I may have left something." She shed her jacket carefully and used it to stem the blood.

"Of course," He said. "Get some rest. Your compensation will be forwarded to the usual account."

"Actually," She spoke before he disconnected the line, "I need you to send some to another location."

"Alright," He said slowly, rather confused, "Number?"

She repeated the numbers to him. "Is that all?" He questioned.

"Yeah," Remy said, relieved that the blood had started to slow. Examining it more closely, it wasn't that bad, but Cameron would notice. She felt a pang in her chest and pulled the jacket back on.

"Stay safe." He ordered. "Thank you for your service." And with that the line went dead.

She sighed, still a little shaky, and stood up and started the trek back. The rain had lightened considerably, leaving a surreal overhanging mist and shining streets. The police lights were blurred through it and easily avoided.

A clock in a 24-hour store told her it was 2:35 am. She let her heavy eyelids close; she had work tomorrow. She almost hoped that Cameron was gone. She couldn't deal with anything right now. The date was approaching and she was-

"Remy!"

Her eyes shot open. The blonde doctor at the corner ran towards her, dropping the umbrella she had been clutching. Cameron wrapped her arms around her thin frame tightly, relief washing over her face.

Her arm promptly protested. "Cameron," She gasped.

Cameron, indeed, quickly took notice of her injury and the blood covering her clothes. This is where she'd be repulsed, walk away. Never come back into her life.

"Come on," She whispered, her shining eyes meeting her own. "Let's get inside. I'll clean it up."

She should have protested. There was something wrong in the upper levels of the food chain, and it could fall back down to her. She shouldn't keep the blonde in her radar.

She…screw it.

Remy captured Cameron's lips in her own, caressing her cheek with one hand. The older woman returned the kiss, deepening it and running her hand along Remy's back. The sirens, blocks away, along with any consequences, any other feelings, melted.

When they broke apart, Cameron pressed her forehead into Remy's shoulder. "Don't scare me like that ever again."

Maybe there was hope for her after all.

* * *

(edit: sorry, catastrophic typo!) Oh no, I made Remy get shot! Don't worry, she's a tough cookie. Yay for the weekend, since chapter 14 is only 1/2 way done. This chapter (of course, ch 13) also marks the 10,000 word mark :D I really want to hear thoughts on this one, since there was quite a lot of info. Thanks everyone for reading and feedback as always.


	14. Chapter 14

They stumbled into the elevator. Remy took to leaning against the wall and she continued to kiss Cameron's exposed skin while pressing the button. Cameron guided her into the apartment, and the exhausted, slightly intoxicated women made a beeline for the bedroom.

Remy tried to drag the doctor directly to the bed but Cameron ignored her, finding the first aid kit. She opened the plastic box on the bed and applied first aid to Remy's arm, who was sitting propped up by pillows against the bed frame. The bullet had only grazed her thankfully, and the blood had slowed to barely a trickle. She firmly attached the waterproof gauze and tape while trying to disregard the chaste kisses Remy planted on her shoulder.

When Remy started to tug at her blouse as she finished shutting the kit, Cameron caught the brunette's eyes. They were clouded and heavy, but Remy's hot breath made her shiver and she finally let herself be swept away in the emotional current. Soon their outer layers lay on the floor, leaving them both only in tank tops and lingerie bottoms.

Cameron would by lying if she said she knew what she was doing as she let Remy's hands run along the hem of her shirt, which was riding steadily up over her stomach. The events of the day had seemed so long ago, despite all the toll and turmoil. When she had seen the young woman vanish, it took her all of five seconds to find an umbrella and hope she wasn't too late.

As they paused for air, she placed one knee between the brunette's legs and ran one hand over her cheek. Cameron kept their gazes, almost as if trying to memorize this moment. Remy pushed herself up and kissed her roughly, pulling her down onto the sinking mattress.

Cameron moaned in pleasure and tried to push the brunette into a lying position, kissing her neck and running her tongue up to her cheek. Remy's breath hitched as realization washed over her. "Allison," She whispered suddenly.

The doctor's lidded eyes opened wider. Remy had never used her first name before. She drew their faces closer and realized that Remy's lip was trembling slightly, but not from anticipation. She licked her own lips and tasted salt, from the red smear on Remy's cheek. She forced her grazing hands to stop and feel; the young woman's skin had gone ice cold. Remy's entire body shook.

Cameron leaned forward from her awkward, propped up position, filling the contours of Remy's body with her own flesh perfectly. She kept kissing the younger woman, but softly, more slowly and gentle. Remy's frame tensed at the touch. She bit the inside of her cheek in effort to muffle a strangled sob, the overall numbness induced by the last hour's events finally ceasing. Usually she would have headed straight to a bar after a hit, in a futile effort to forget, but not tonight.

"It's okay," Cameron whispered, trying her best to comfort the young woman. She took her wrists and drew circles on them with her thumb until Remy's breathing slowed slightly. Then she carefully sat up, taking the brunette with her, letting her lean her full weight on her. Cameron managed to swing her legs out of the bed and the girl followed.

She turned on one muted light in the bathroom and turned on the shower's hot water. The noise startled Remy, but her eyes soon closed halfway as the sound soothed her. Cameron walked back over to her and discarded her tank top and underwear.

Before Remy's mind could really register the blonde in all of her glory, though she had days ago through a cocktail of alcohol and drugs, Cameron had shed Remy's shirt, mindful of her still stinging wound.

Cameron's hands wrapped around her back, unclasping her bra, and Remy unconsciously leaned into the warm towel behind her. When the garment fell away it revealed a red tinge. The first man's blood splatter had gone all the way through. It hurt the doctor to see how thin Remy was, even compared to herself. Cameron doubted that she could stand to eat after a hit or a hangover.

Cameron tested the water, avoiding her gaze for a moment, and then gave a little tilt of the head in question. The young woman nodded and let the blonde shed her panties before they stepped under the hot spray. Cameron wetted a washcloth and wiped away any trace of blood from her cheek, her arm, her chest. Remy's hands wrapped shakily around Cameron's lower back. She let the brunette hug her tightly as the water ran down both of their bodies. Soon Remy's tears mixed in.

Cameron silently took note of this and resumed her consoling of the young woman, replacing the bitter cries with soft kisses and warm hands. Even though Remy was taller by a few inches, she rested her head on Cameron's wet shoulder.

When the water temperature started to drop down to past lukewarm, Cameron finally turned it off. Remy didn't seem to notice or mind. The blonde wrapped her in a warm towel and semi-dried her hair. The young woman sat on the tiled edge of the large tub and watched with glazed eyes as Cameron dried herself. Entering the bedroom, neither bothered getting redressed. Instead they climbed back under the sheets and Cameron wrapped them in a blanket.

When both had settled in, Remy turned and made eye contact with the blonde again. Cameron waited, expecting her to say something, but Remy felt like she was choking on the words.

She swallowed and finally managed to speak. "I… can't do this anymore."

Cameron's heart stopped for a moment. This, what did this mean?

"Your job?" She asked tentatively. _Or did she mean them? _

Remy seemed to read her mind. She shook her head side to side, wet droplets making patterns across the pillow. "Anything," She sobbed.

She couldn't do anything, be anyone. She was too weak, too scarred, too damaged for anyone to love or even acknowledge her. They would only end up being hurt, whether in ten years or ten hours. She didn't want to cope, to deal with anything.

Cameron turned, taking Remy with her, so that they were lying face to face on the crumpled sheets, and intertwined their legs and arms. She wanted to say something, but a few more tears slipping out of the brunette's eyes told her that now wasn't the time. She held the young woman tightly until her breathing finally slowed, only a few hours from sunrise. They both entered a world of ink black dreams, where nothing could hurt them and secrets didn't need to be kept. It was a place both of them wished they could stay.

* * *

Oh the angst. I hope this little scene makes you put your pitchforks down! I'd been sensing the epiphany of this story (which I really needed) and after meditating to smooth jazz at 3 am it finally came to me (and I sincerely hope you can tell I was kidding). Who else felt just awful for Cameron last night? Where's Remy when you need her??


	15. Chapter 15

Remy woke with a start. She looked around the room, and upon seeing everything looking normal, let her body sink back into the bed. She wanted nothing more than to loll back into the slumber, but a wonderful scent wafted into the room. Her stomach growled, and with the sun shining through the bedroom windows she decided not to fight it.

She threw the tangled blanket off of her and pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a cotton tee. As the shirt went over her head, she let out a long hiss. That _really_ fucking hurt! Only then did she remember how exactly she had gotten that wound.

The familiar feeling of being run over by a bus washed over her, prancing up her spine and through of her head, tingling down her limbs. She clutched the cold metal of the frame at the end of the bed. After the feeling lessened slightly, contently waiting for another opportunity to rear its choking head, she sighed and headed out into the main living area.

Remy didn't quite know what to make of the sight before here. The kitchen, in its rather sparse entirety, was emptied out over the granite countertops and island. The sugar was open and scattered, mixing with salt and flour. The variously sized cartons and bottles of milk, juice, and tea were clustered together and the cups, pans, and paper plates were littered everywhere. She almost made a bet that if she leaned over to look, plastic silverware would cover the floor.

Most amusing was Dr. Allison Cameron, sitting on her counter in an oversized tee and Nike shorts, with her head leaning back against the only unopened cabinet.

"Did I miss the tornado, or did the Lollipop Guild finally rebel?" Remy asked.

Cameron lifted her head and opened her eyes, glaring spitefully. "You don't have a coffee machine."

Remy spied the unopened Folgers on the counter next to her. She surveyed the room again and then the disgruntled blonde. Not being able to bear it, she burst out laughing.

"It's not funny!" Cameron exclaimed, "What do you eat or drink around here? The drinks are all expired, I checked. There's also mold on the eggs."

"Most of what's in there are leftovers I've brought home from overloads at the shelter." Remy walked over, careful not to step in anything, until she stood face to face with the older woman. Looking her over, Remy's eyebrows formed a slightly confused, yet adorable, wrinkle. She ran a finger over Cameron's cheek and looked down at it. Licking the digit, she looked back up, "Flour?"

Cameron blushed. "Don't ask."

Remy shook her head in disbelief. "Are you coming to work with me again or are you going to clean up the kitchen?" She asked.

Cameron raised an eyebrow, "You're going to work?"

Remy nodded, sniffing some tea. "My life doesn't stop just because of a little scrape." After a small internal debate, she took a swig.

"That little scrape probably needs stitches, you know." Cameron grinned.

The color drained from the brunette's face, "No way, not again!" Remy pointed the bottle of tea at her, "I don't care if I get gangrene, okay?"

Cameron rolled her eyes. "How about I do it when I get back?"

Remy's expression abruptly changed. "You're leaving?"

The blonde hopped down from the counter. "Well I haven't been back to my place in three days. I probably have mail stacked up to the ceiling and an hour's worth of messages on my answering machine."

Remy nodded slightly. "But you'll be back?" She asked, slightly unsure, "I want to talk to you about something."

Cameron noticed her apprehensive tone. It worried her; they hadn't really mentioned the events of last night, or their repercussions. She decided that for the time being, it was best to avoid the subject. "Only if we go get some donuts, I'm starving." She finally said playfully.

Remy sighed, smiling. The way to a woman's heart was through her stomach. "Sure, I'll even throw in the coffee."

* * *

Fluffy little filler chapter, I decided they both needed to take a break, and eat more. No, not even I have torn apart the kitchen like that. Also, though I doubt she cares, WonderousPlaceForAnEcho scored the 100th review. Yay, you get...something. This chapter I suppose. Also, JB, any smut I wrote would suck because I'm a stupid little virgin, and giving Remy happiness? It's blasphamous to use the two words in the same sentence.


	16. Chapter 16

The bustling city was no less annoying than usual outside Remy's apartment, Cameron quickly noted. Ambulances zoomed by into the emergency docks at Mercy, the cab drivers swore while swerving in and out of lanes, and pedestrians like themselves tried to keep alert while bitching on Bluetooth headsets. The rain of last night had cooled the temperature down to bearable, but Remy, knowing New York summer heat waves, doubted it would last. To top it off, it certainly hadn't done anything to quench the constant city smells.

Thankfully, Remy had a solution.

"Are you sure you know where you're going?" Cameron asked as the brunette walked confidently. She had said it was on the way to the shelter, but the route they were taking was completely different than yesterdays.

"Trust me, okay?" Remy looked over her shoulder as they reached the crosswalk. The light turned and the small huddle of people around them started walking hurriedly. The young woman grabbed Cameron's hand and pulled her along. Cameron bit her lip so she wouldn't look like a complete idiot for smiling in the middle of the street.

After reaching the new block, Cameron was almost instantly hit with an overwhelming yet heavenly smell. She realized that they were in front of a quaint little bakery, and her stomach rumbled at the mere sight of the pastries in the window. Remy rolled her eyes and dragged her into the shop.

When they walked in, Cameron may have unconsciously moaned. The sight was almost better than Willy Wonka: small cakes and muffins, bagels and buns, and some _damn_ good looking coffee!

The man behind the counter, who had been grumbling with a young, meek looking man, looked up at the bell ringing. "Remy!" He boomed.

"Hey Bill!" The brunette grinned.

"What can I getcha?" He asked with a heavy accent, possibly Dutch.

"What's good, Bill?" She asked, placing one hand on her hip and raising a questioning eyebrow.

"Everything," He slammed his palm onto the counter, "And you'd better know it!"

They starred at each other for a few fierce seconds and then burst out laughing. Cameron's shoulders slumped; it was all an act.

"Surprise us." Remy told him.

"Us?" Bill asked. He looked behind the brunette and spotted Cameron. "Remy, you dog!"

"Bill!" Remy exclaimed. She turned to Cameron, "I'm sorry, he's a lecherous old brute, but his bread is to die for."

"I'm sure," Cameron whispered, giving the young woman a smile.

"Hey, take these off my hands!" Bill yakked, interrupting their moment. Remy clicked her tongue and sighed melodramatically before taking the wax paper wrapped treats and coffees.

She handed one to Cameron and bit into one. "Really, Bill, Danishes? You couldn't think of anything more original?"

"You're in a _Danish_ bakery," Oh, she had been right. "You want a sushi roll?" Remy rolled her eyes while Cameron bit into the pastry.

"Oh my god," The blonde moaned, "This is…amazing."

"See?" Bill motioned to Cameron, "Don't complain so much."

Remy held up her hands in mock surrender. "Put it on my tab. Thanks Bill."

"Yeah, yeah," He muttered, wiping down the counter. Cameron waved before Remy dragged her out the door.

"Dare I ask?" She asked once they were back on the streets.

Remy bit into her Danish. "Bastard has it out to beat me in the annual neighborhood cook-off."

"Right," Cameron chuckled. The vision of Remy in an Americana barbequing contest was hysterical, especially against such a portly old man. Though, considering the neighborhood she lived in, it was probably very different from her family's barbeques and block parties.

They finished their breakfasts on the way to the shelter, and by the time the double doors loomed in front of them a feeling of longing had developed in the pit of Cameron's stomach.

Remy put her hand on the handle, but after a few seconds of consideration dropped it. "I," She cleared her throat, "I'm sorry, about what I said last night. This is all uncharted territory for me. I really feel something for you, and it…scares me. Can we talk tonight?"

Cameron swallowed the lump in her throat, more than relieved. "Sounds good," She said.

Remy kept her gaze for a moment, then, glancing around quickly, placed a small kiss on the blonde's cheek. "See you,"

Cameron nodded and watched the young woman walk into the building before hailing a taxi back to the apartment. For now she had to drive back and sort out the matter of her employment with her former boss. The fact that she was dating an assassin would hit her later.

* * *

Sorry for the delay, please lay down the pitchforks. I have an excuse but it still makes me mad that I haven't been able to keep on my little Camteen crusade! I can only pray that if I get a total of 3 hours of sleep this weekend it will be enough to save my biology grade (70! D:) and crank out a few more chapters. Enjoy, this should be the last of the fluff for like 5 chapters :)


	17. Chapter 17

Cameron hated traffic. Whoever the hell invented cars, this goddamn city, the incredibly narrow bridges, or a combination of the three would one day feel her wrath. She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel, went through the entire range of radio stations twice, and was to the point of counting the pieces of crap that littered the car floor before she finally screamed in frustration and joined in with the chorus of honking of cars around her. This was the reason that everyone in this city was so miserable!

After a moment her ears started to ring and the idiocy of what she was doing smugly crept up on her. She rolled her eyes at herself and let her head fall against the seat. They hadn't moved a single inch in ten minutes, honking her ears deaf wouldn't speed up the process of towing the two cars in the fender bender.

Maybe she should be thankful for this whole mess. Up until now, it had distracted her from this emotional rollercoaster she'd been thrown on. This was her split second to gather her thoughts before it sped off like a bullet and she resumed shrieking at the top of her lungs with her eyes clenched tightly shut.

Her mind, big surprise, drifted to Remy. She really had no idea what to make of the woman. She was the kind of person you might see on TV: gorgeous, charismatic, witty, and incredibly conflicted with three closets worth of skeletons. The more she thought about her, really, the more she was torn down the middle and the more questions she found herself asking. Did she even feel anything for the lives she took? Had some type of traumatic event set this idea of self-serving justice in her? Did she just have a death wish?

Cameron knew these were just all the same questions in different contexts. It was a simple word. Why?

She didn't know. She didn't know if even Remy knew.

It had to have something to do with her past. Something had to make her like this; some catastrophic, possibly mind-shattering event. Nobody threw out all of their morals, conscience, or common sense out the window overnight.

No, that was wrong. Remy still had morals, but they were so clouded by this irrational idea. Her tears last night had shown a very real conscience being tortured. As for common sense, there had to be some rational part of her brain if she still hadn't been caught. It scared her how close the analyzation was to the mind of a serial killer.

She shook her head. Somehow she sensed that this was deeper than that. Remy was driven and passionate about this idea, under the guilt. It was almost like she _needed_ this kind of life.

At the same time, Cameron couldn't ignore her own morals. She took the oath to do no harm. By being involved with such a hypocrite, was she becoming one herself? She'd always hated the concept of euthanasia; to see someone in a state where they would beg for release was tragic in itself. It's what made her stop believing in God. The people Remy killed were merciless killers, but they were healthy. No matter how you looked at it, Remy had more blood on her hands than Cameron could ever wash away.

A car horn snapped her out of her thoughts. She sighed. She was over thinking. Seeing the cars ahead of her finally start to move, she pressed the gas pedal and continued the trip back across the Hudson.

* * *

After a ridiculous number of hours, Remy finally walked into the office and collapsed onto the couch. The rain forced a lot of people into the general shelter. More people meant more mouths to feed, dishes needing cleaning, and consequently more money needed in the account. The building rents were going up again, and the costs of the clinic and temporary housing shelter were rising. She knew she needed to stay for at least another two hours and check the finances. She would hire someone for an accounting position, but if the shelter was barely staying afloat it was a luxury that obviously couldn't be afforded. For now, all she wanted to do was let her aching body sink further into the black leather and never come back out.

She knew she was quietly self-destructing. She was pushing herself to the point where if her night job didn't kill her, her addictions or her day job would. She desperately wanted to stay numb, distracted from the ticking clock. She wanted not to feel anything, but she was human. She knew, no matter how much she denied it or avoided thinking about it, that she wanted to feel. Wanting to feel loved, be told she is good, to feel proud, is that so much to beg for? She wanted someone to uplift her and uncover her from the scratchy, ugly wool blanket tossed over her when she had been abandoned. She wanted to feel something, but at the same time she was _so damn scared. _

She hated herself. She hated this _life!_ It wasn't a life, not by any standard. Babies come into the world crying for their mothers. When the umbilical cord is cut, an expiration date isn't supposed to be tattooed on the infant's back like a tramp stamp. There was no such thing as removing this part of her life from herself; there would be nothing left. She'd trapped herself in this cycle of sin and redemption, the assassin and the martyr. The worst part was that it just pushed her further away from the rest of the world.

She knew she was being stupid. There was no rationality for her feelings. She was doing this for nothing. She was selfish, and at the same time selfless.

Selfless, maybe that's what she was. Maybe there was never a person in this shell to begin with.

No, of course she was lying. If she had lost in ages ago, her mind wouldn't drift to Allison Cameron every chance she got.

She shouldn't get involved with her. She knew that. She shouldn't be involved with _anyone. _She was sending her mixed signals, and it wasn't fair to the blonde doctor. Letting her in would mean she was vulnerable, pushing her away would confirm that she was beyond help. Even if she did let her in, there was no guarantee Cameron would want to be there. True, she hadn't run away yet, but was she doing all of it because she felt obligated or something else? If she was trying to save her, it would take a hell of a lot more than what most people could give.

She punched the leather with her left fist weakly. Lying here arguing with herself wouldn't solve anything. Remy peeled her face off of the material, sticky with her sweat, and fixed her hair so it didn't look like a bird's nest. She walked over then slumped back down into the desk seat and started up the laptop. After giving it a moment, she opened the internet and pulled up the account's figures. Her eyes went wide and her hand went to her phone. This was _not_ good.

* * *

Oh, Cliffhanger!! Ok, so I'm going to be gone all day and haven't even started chapter 18, but this is the longest chapter yet I believe. Sorry, I'm sure it's annoying, I have a project and all of my exams this week, but I'll manage somehow. Thank you everyone who's reviewing, reading, and helping me out with this stories. I'd bake you cookies but I don't want the kitchen to look like what Cameron did to it.


	18. Chapter 18

Cameron set foot in the lobby of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital for the first time in two days. She decided it would be better to sort out her employment sooner rather than later, even though she could do with a nap. So, reluctantly, she walked across the bustling clinic to the double doors of Cuddy's office.

"Come in," was heard after she rapped on the door three times. She entered and stood as professionally as her weary body would allow.

"Dr. Cameron," Cuddy greeted when she looked up, her expression professional but kind. "What can I do for you?"

"I assume my resignation got to you?" The blonde doctor asked, not wanting to beat around the bush with obligatory greetings.

Cuddy grinned, "The fourth floor janitor delivered it expressly from House's trash can." Cameron grinned; there was House for her. "Do you really intend to quit?" She asked.

Cameron shrugged. "With Foreman and Chase gone, there isn't much point in staying. And House will be fine, he always is."

Cuddy nodded in understanding. "Well of course, I'll write you a letter of recommendation and forge House's signature." Both women smiled, but Cameron wasn't expecting what Cuddy said next, "Unless you'd just like a different position here?"

Cameron felt her body tense. She hadn't even considered whether she'd like to stay here, or if she didn't where she would go. Yesterday had felt like a dream, sweeping away all of her everyday worries. "I, uh," She stuttered, feeling a sheepish blush spread across her cheeks.

Seeing her discomfort, Cuddy quickly added, "You don't have to decide right now, of course, I just thought I'd put it out there. Dr. Chin from Pediatrics and Dr. Grant, the ER head, are retiring at the end of the month. I would definitely consider having you take either place."

'I definitely appreciate the offer, I just haven't really thought about it. The whole thing has been a real spur of the moment." Cameron answered honestly, running her hand through her hair.

The administrator considered her words carefully. A moment later, she shuffled some papers off to the side, "Sit down." Cameron sat, "Cameron, I'm not totally oblivious. Over these past few years, there's been quite a love triangle in Diagnostics. I think maybe its better that you take some time and figure out what you really want."

Cameron smiled at the endearing woman. "I think I might like working at Mercy." She said suddenly, surprising herself.

Cuddy's eyebrows quickly shot up. The statement certainly wasn't expected. "Um, I could make some calls for you. Like I said, don't decide today." She said.

Cameron nodded, "Thank you, Lisa."

Cuddy leaned back as Cameron stood up, "Take care of yourself, Allison," She said warmly, returning the sentiment.

"Will do," Cameron said. She stood there a moment before exiting one of the double doors.

She sighed, considering her former boss's words of wisdom. Could she really leave here so easily?

After a moment of consideration, she headed up to the fourth floor.

* * *

She wasn't surprised by the sight she saw. House was leaning back in his leather chair with his iPod plugged into a doc, playing some 80's indie rock band. He was strumming his electric guitar and occasionally head banging, paying no attention to her – a totally normal day.

She walked in through the glass doors, the familiar carpet under her feet. How many times had she stood in this very spot?

"Is Chase staining your satin sheets or is he curled up in a corner trying to massage his balls to their normal color?" He asked with a lopsided smirk.

"Both," Cameron said with a sarcastic grin.

He set down his guitar. "Chase called yesterday to ask for a letter of recommendation. He's going to the Mayo Clinic."

"Good," She said honestly. She wanted to move on from the whole Chase mess.

House turned off the blaring music. "I don't want you to leave," He stated.

She bit the inside of he lip. "You're a good doctor," He continued.

Cameron clenched her jaw. She thought back about how years ago, any kind of compliment House gave her would be swooned over.

"I have to grow up sometime," She said in a calm voice she almost didn't recognize. It sounded serene and resolute through all of this crap.

He met her gaze. Then, in a manner only House could pull off, "Not even if I hire a girl for you to get a good lay from on the side?"

Her jaw dropped before she could stop it. His fist flew into the air, "I knew it!" House looked utterly like a child on Christmas morning, eyes shining with glee. He pointed to her, "You're wearing different perfume, shampoo, and a whole new outfit that's two inches to big for you. You also look like you didn't sleep all night. Nice to know I'm not the only one here who enjoys Cuddy's ass."

She exhaled loudly and rolled her eyes. After three fucking years of hiding her affection for the fairer sex he'd known all along. He looked at her seriously. "Seriously, I'll hire her too."

She smiled softly, "Goodbye, House."

His expression didn't change. And if it did, she didn't see it. Somewhere between the elevator and the walk out to her car, it hit her. This building had been her second home for over three years. And in the last fifteen minutes, none of that really mattered. All she really cared about was Remy.

She caught herself grinning like a silly teenager in the rear view mirror. There was a lot of emotional baggage, but under it all, she wanted this. Scenes like that morning were what she strived for. She may not have even gotten out of bed if her stomach hadn't been growling. Remy asleep next to her was a world in itself to want to lose herself in.

Cameron decided that first things first, she should go home. She'd check her mail, have a glass of wine with lunch, and delete Chase's number from her cell phone. Then after a little nap, she'd head back to Remy's place. She knew that things would be hard, but she was willing to try.

* * *

Meanwhile, Remy was pacing in her office with a cell phone clutched in her sweaty palm. After the automated voice met her ear for the seventh time, she threw it across the room. It landed with a sickening crack, and she banged a fist on the desk in frustration. Fine, if they wanted to be difficult she would too. She grabbed her purse and before she knew it she was in a cab, heading for the outer docks. Her suspicions from earlier were confirmed, but she would be damned if she didn't have a say about the events poised to come crashing down upon her.

* * *

Ok, this was literally finished five minutes ago. I'm praying really hard for a lack of major typos. I have exams this week, so I'm taking a break with posting so I have time to study and save my biology grade. Then while I do that I can continue typing up chapters to get back in the groove of frequent posting. So, I'll be insanely cruel and leave a cliffhanger. Cue the evil laugh :)


	19. Chapter 19

The door of the warehouse creaked on its rusty hinges as Remy opened it. Well, by open she meant kicked the lock off. She didn't give a damn if anyone heard. She let the randomly placed motion activated light bulbs flicker on and walked with intent across the vast concrete floor. It was absolutely filthy in here; cardboard boxes and crates were piled up to the ceiling, the ground was covered in sawdust. Places like this were a gang's little playhouse. What most didn't know was that the FBI enjoyed them too.

She finally found the crate along the wall that she was looking for. It was rotting and covered in graffiti, surrounded by other crates on all sides. Picking the small padlock was no problem, and a second later she was crouching down in the tiny box. This was the annoying part. She felt along the back wall and smirked when she felt the familiar polished wood. After a moment of searching, she finally felt what she was looking for: plastic keys on a keypad. Using the Braille, she found the numbers she was looking for and punched in the code. The wall clicked open. She sighed angrily. Why did the FBI have to be this damn sneaky?

She pushed the door open and found herself at the base of a tight, winding staircase lit only by another single light. Her shoes echoed on the metal steps, alerting them, if they weren't already aware, of her presence. It didn't matter since the ride here hadn't calmed her down whatsoever. It was probably a good thing that she didn't have her gun on her or she could lose her temper and earn another few bullets in her.

Remy reached the top of the staircase and punched another code into another keypad. This one was pointless, really; if the person got through the first door they weren't going to be stopped by such thin door. It wasn't even a deadbolt. A green light flashed and the door's lock deactivated. She pushed it open and walked into one of the federal agency's most secret rooms.

There were seven men. They sat in black leather chairs at a polished cherry table. There was a coffee tray (these guys seemed to live on it) and a large computer screen at the end out of the room, right out of the TV shows. There were no windows; only the eerie glow of the screen and one overhead light illuminated their silhouettes.

"Why are you here?" A deep, familiar voice came from the dark man in the chair closest to her. He had his hand at his belt, no doubt clutching his gun.

"You know why I'm here, Donovan," she spat his name with particular distaste. She could feel her anger rising again.

"No, I don't. All I know is that we lost track of you thirty minutes ago." He retorted calmly.

"My phone broke," She gave him a sarcastic grin to hide her fury. She knew that he had bugged her damn phone. He stared stoically at her, waiting for her to speak again. This only succeeded to annoy her more; she hated his piercing eyes. "Where's the money?"

His eyebrows rose slightly. "What money?" He asked.

"Don't get cute," Remy warned him, "I told you ten percent to one account, the rest to the regular account. There's no damn ninety-thousand in the regular account, Donovan!"

His nostrils flared, but his tone remained authoritative. "We told you to get rid of one man, you hit four. We needed the others to testify against the rest of the gang, now we have nothing but four bodies and a load of paperwork."

"Maybe you should have thought about where to schedule the hit then!" Remy shouted. She knew she was quickly losing any control she had, but this man knew how to annoy the hell out of her.

"You also used your clearance to hack into federal records that had nothing to do with your assignments." He said, tempted to match her tone.

"Assignments?" Remy gasped incredulously, "I'm not in high school, damn it! I'm killing people for you!"

"Not well, I might add!" Donovan stood up, letting his large six foot frame tower over her. The rest of the men looked on with stern expressions. "Your DNA was all over that crime scene. If the NYPD had gotten there before us, you would be in chains as we speak!"

"I got shot!" Remy argued back, pulling off her denim jacket roughly, revealing the mass of white gauze. "I'll try not to bleed next time!"

"You said you weren't seriously hurt! You lied to your commander, the least of your recent offences!" Donovan shouted.

"I don't work for you!" Remy yelled. "And I'm so damn tired of you acting like you can tell me what to do!"

"You do what I say if you don't want to spend the rest of your life in Bayview!" Donovan pulled the gun from his belt and pointed it at her. The action startled their audience and Remy's eyes widened. After a moment of deadlock, Donovan lowered the gun and the argument was effectively ended.

Donovan took a file off the table and yanked out a few papers. "Who is this Allison Cameron?"

"No one," She said through her teeth.

The FBI agent crossed his arms. "Until we decide if you're stable enough to continue to employ, your pay will be cut to ten percent. That ten percent went to the other account you specified."

"I need that money," She growled. Underneath her cold exterior, worry was biting at her. If she didn't get that money, the shelter would definitely go under. She had nobody to blame, though. She had purposely trapped herself in this cycle. And what the hell did they mean by stable enough?

Donovan met her icy gaze. He took another folder with a red stamp across it off the table and extended it to her. "This," He said quietly, "Is currently the bureau's most wanted criminal in the city. His identity hasn't been released to the media, but he is the leader of one of the largest heroin trafficking gangs in the nation. We have him on over a dozen counts of murder, trafficking, possession, and distributing, not to mention a string of gang rapes from his right hand men. If you can take him down, you'll have all the money you want."

Remy released a breath she hadn't realized that she'd been holding. "You cannot afford to mess up," He warned, "A single witness is all they need. If they come after you, WPP will not apply because it would incriminate the bureau. Your only option will be to flee the country, and even then you will never be safe. Do you understand?"

She tried to form some kind of thoughts or words, but nothing was coming. Her shaking hand extended without her telling it to. She nodded solemnly, and he handed her the phone from his belt.

"I trust you to do what is right, Remy." Donovan said.

She shot him a glare. Then, silently, she turned and left the room.

The rest of the men were silent for a moment.

"Don," One eventually said, "Are you sure this is wise? That girl is a ticking time bomb."

Donovan sighed. He didn't get paid enough for this. If the big guys had their way, he'd be commanding ten more people like Remy. The bureau was _not_ an organization that liked help, and by them Remy was considered the lowest trash that had the misfortune to serve this country. It was ironic really, considering the amount of assignments she was given. He could only do so much for her. Then again, her background was so tragic that it was like she was destined for this path.

"We'll keep an eye on her," He murmured. For now, he could keep tabs on her at her shelter and investigate this Cameron woman. Despite their few and far between encounters, he tried to help her as much as he could. If hating him made her feel better, that was fine. "She'll do what I tell her to." He finished, closing the topic.

At least he hoped she would, for all of their sakes.

* * *

So I told myself not to update until Monday, but I think we all need some Camteen candy! Happy Halloween everyone, that was the longest chapter yet. My Biology grade is saved, I'm going Trick-or-Treating, jammin' to some good music, all is well. I'll probably fly through a few more chapters this weekend. Thank you so much for being patient, I promise that these next few chapters will NOT disappoint ;)


	20. Chapter 20

Cameron awoke slowly, letting herself ease out of the deep slumber. She felt wonderfully refreshed, despite her slightly achy muscles from the awkward position on the couch that she had fallen asleep in. She lay there contently, eyes half open, for a few more minutes before craning her neck to see the time. She sighed. It was 5:30, which meant more rush hour traffic, but the sooner she left the sooner she would get to Remy's. Reluctantly she swung her legs off the couch and headed towards the bedroom.

She had to commend herself on how much she had gotten done before her much needed nap. There were three messages on her phone, including one from Chase. She had listened to his whining about Tuesdays for all of two seconds before deleting the voicemail. She swore that if she heard anymore of his bitching about it she would petition to rename the weekday.

After that she warmed up some soup in the microwave for lunch. As she ate she searched online for a bit. She had tried to type up a letter to some of the Mercy people expressing her interest in working there, but she had been too tired to fire out the spuriously sincere phrases. That was the part when she had shut down the laptop and let herself curl up under the couch's throw for some decent shut-eye.

The blonde walked back to the master bathroom for a quick shower. As she shed her dirty clothes, she noted how the laundry hamper was dangerously close to overflowing. She ran her hand through her hair, pulling out the band holding most of it in a ponytail. Being at home reminded her that there was a real world with responsibilities and consequences, a monotone called daily life. Soon her mind was filled with grocery lists and recommendation letters.

She stepped under the warm spray in effort to stop the fast approaching headache. She let the water cascade down her body and couldn't help feeling slightly lonely. Since meeting Remy, she had felt a whole spectrum of emotions. They'd slept together, and even though they were drunk Cameron distinctly remembered how mind blowing the brunette had been, so the physical attraction was definitely there.

She also couldn't deny that she liked spending time with the young woman. She hadn't felt uncomfortable telling Remy about herself and her past, and even though both of them had been naked in the same bed last night, it definitely wasn't sexual.

Sighing, she shook her head as she washed her hair. There was still the issue of Remy's job. She felt like Remy would only open up to her when she was ready, but Cameron worried for her. She could have been seriously hurt last night, as if bullets wounds were a walk in the park! She still wasn't sure if she was even okay with the thing.

But then again, it's not like Remy was selfish. She gave everything she earned to charity. The way Remy saw it, everything she was doing benefitted humanity. It was almost admirable. She was still torn over the subject.

Cameron turned the knob to stop the water. She was over thinking this whole situation again. She just needed to talk to Remy and everything would work itself out. Once her hair and the rest of her body were towel-dried, she glanced at the clock again. It was now 6:15; she'd get dressed and then head out.

Just as she finished pulling on a fresh pair of dark wash jeans, the house phone rang. She nearly jumped out of her skin and stubbed her toe on one of the bed legs. Swearing under her breath, she hopped to the nearest phone and picked it up off the receiver.

"Hello?" She said breathlessly, her eyes scrunched tightly shut from the throbbing pain in her toe.

"Hello, is this Allison Cameron?" A woman's voice asked.

"Yes, who is this?" Cameron asked, holding the phone between her ear and shoulder as she walked over to the freezer for a pack of frozen vegetables.

"This is Angela McClellan from Bank of America. I'm calling to inform you that $10,000 dollars was transferred to one of your accounts earlier today." The woman responded.

She let the freezer door shut with a thump, barely heard over her heart's erratic pounding. Had this woman really said ten thousand dollars? "Who transferred the money in?" Cameron asked.

"I'm afraid I don't have that information. It's policy to inform the account owner of a transfer of over $5000." She said.

"Right," Cameron managed, "Um, thank you," She stammered before hanging up.

She held onto the counter for support, her head spinning. Slowly emotions began to form: confusion slowly morphed into disbelief, then heart wrench into a sharp pain of anger.

Her fist was clenched so tightly that her nails dug into her palm. She felt sickened. Without really knowing what she was doing, she grabbed her keys and slammed the door of the apartment behind her.

Meanwhile, in the bedroom, the phone left on the bed stopped vibrating and an automated voice noted one new message.

"_Allison, it's Remy. Will you please pick up? I...I need to talk to you, it's about the shelter. It's almost seven so if you're coming back up will you call?" _

There was a short pause, then an intake of breath.

At the last minute, she couldn't say it.

"_Just give me a call. Bye." _

* * *

I'll just leave you to it then :)


	21. Chapter 21

Remy was seated at the breakfast nook again, reading over the file for the fifteenth time. This man was by far the sickest piece of trash she had ever had to deal with. Eduardo De Santigo had only reached the top rungs of the Mexican drug trafficking business a year ago, and in that time he had established a totally new order.

At the top of this little ring was Santigo himself. Below him were the men who carried out his orders: Juan Martinez, Pablo Gutierrez, Jorge Romero, and Dominic Silva. They were all nasty brutes who had their own inch thick files of operations they had led, which meant that they were all just as smart as Santigo.

They mainly did their work in trafficking. Their jobs were to use the most efficient ways to get it past customs into Texas or out to Costa Rica, and then fly it up on private jets of wealthy businessmen who got cuts and free dope. They would sell some to other gangs and keep the best to distribute for themselves, combining the bitch work that was drug trafficking with white collar scams for their most elite customers.

Unfortunately, that wasn't their only method. The most heinous of their crimes was to use teens as distributers. When the kids flaked the gangs would rape and murder girlfriends and sisters, often in public places, before shooting the boys. They were all over the city map, which meant that they probably had a lot more members than The Bureau knew about.

The main hideout was a club called Epicauta in the Upper-East part of Manhattan. She'd check it out either tomorrow or the day after; she didn't trust The Bureau's agents.

Remy shut the file, unable to bear looking at more crime scene photos, but the cotton fabric of her shirt caught on the gauze tape. She closed her eyes and bit the inside of her cheek.

Standing up, she headed back to the bathroom. Peeling off the tape and bandage, she saw that it looked a lot better. But god, it hurt like a bitch. She cleaned it and clumsily attached a new piece of gauze. She made her way back to the table and gathered up all of the folders.

After pulling out and opening the safe under the bed, her hands fell into her lap on top of the folders. She looked at the contents: guns, knives, bullets, a lock-picking kit, and various files with bright red deceased stamps. Next to them were the files of the shelter's finances and her shitty apartment's bills. Her life in its entire hollow shell entirety was in this safe. It was the best safe federal money could buy, but she still kept the key taped above it on the wooden beam supporting the bed.

She starred at the stained carpet. Somehow, Allison Cameron had found that key. She unlocked her and spread out the entire contents of her soul in broad daylight, with a face of comfort and understanding. How much did she really understand, she wondered? When the raw truth came out, and Remy knew that eventually it would, would she still be there?

Before she had time to think further (which she should really stop doing, she was running out of Advil for her headaches), a frenzied pounding came from the front door. The brunette jumped slightly and quickly shut the safe and shoved it back under the bed frame.

Remy was dressed in only a tank top and boy shorts, so she checked through the peephole first. She let her shoulders fall when she saw the familiar blonde hair and opened the door.

There was a split second where neither of them spoke, but their eyes met. For once, Remy's eyes were clear and innocent, but Cameron's were full of rage.

"What's wrong?" Remy asked. She took a step forward but the blonde stepped back with a fierce glare. This confused the younger woman even more. "Cameron?"

"Don't ask me what's wrong when you know the answer, _Remy." _Cameron said with an amount of viciousness Remy didn't know she was capable of.

"No," Remy said slowly, "I don't. Come in."

Cameron did, but solely so the other tenants didn't call the landlord on them. She had had two hours to think the situation over and her rage festering in her core had only made her even more prepared to yell than when she had left her apartment.

She slammed the door behind her, startling the brunette. "Do you want me to say _thank you?" _Cameron asked her maliciously, "For the ten thousand dollars of your _blood money_ you so _kindly _bestowed upon me?" She emphasized the words, feeling her disgust proliferating.

Remy's eyes widened as her mind played flashes of the previous night. She had been sure that Cameron wouldn't be there when she got back to the apartment. She hadn't really thought about what the money she transferred to her account was supposed to be - a thank you, some sort of compensation? A bribe for her silence? It must have been a stupid adrenaline based decision, an aftereffect of being shot.

"Allison," She couldn't seem to channel her emotions through the single word and it came out sounding meek.

"Don't call me that," Cameron said through clenched teeth. Remy stepped back, accidently running into the kitchen counter. "I trusted you, you know! I set aside what you did for a living because I thought that there was something deeper to you!"

She exhaled, exasperated. She had had a whole fucking Hippocratic Oath speech and she couldn't remember a damn word. "And this whole time, has it just been _business _for you?"

Remy looked at her, stunned. "Or," She started again, "Was it just a little game?" Cameron felt herself choking on tears. She was such an idiot for thinking this could actually work.

"It wasn't like that," Remy tried hopelessly. It really wasn't, nothing was going how it should be. Nothing was making sense; her thoughts were incomprehensibly flying and her heart was pounding out a foreign beat. God, what the hell was happening? _Why_ the hell was this happening?

"Don't even try," Cameron said, putting her hands up in surrender. "I was just a conquest from the start," She smiled despite the situation, shaking her head, "So I'm just going to go, and you'll never have to see me again." She breathily got out somehow, knowing her tears would spill any second.

She didn't let herself commit to memory a final image of the brunette. She turned around and walked quickly out of the apartment, leaving the door wide open. The thirteen flights of stairs quickly vanished in a blur beneath her, and soon the sounds of the city were blocked by unhearing ears. She didn't know where she was going; she had taken a taxi. All she knew was that she had to get away from all of this.

Remy saw lips moving, feet racing away, a door swinging on its old rusting hinges. There were echoes on the god-damn infernal stairs, slowly getting fainter. The city came out of its momentary comatose state and her body remembered how to intake oxygen. It started consuming in quick, sharp breaths and one way or another in an uncertain amount of time she was slamming the door shut and running down those same stairs.

She would try to blindly search the entire city, but eventually her leg muscles would force her to stop her madman sprinting and she would realize that, in this city of 8.3 million people, she was completely alone.

And by the time she realized that, the next logical thought was that that's how it should be.

* * *

9 reviews on the last one, I think I haven't told you that you guys rock in the last few chapters. And not only that, somehow I pulled my biology grade up to a 97! Happy day, but not for our wonderful ladies. Epicauta, by the way, is the genus name of a certain species of beetle. Kudos to anyone who can name it ;)


	22. Chapter 22

The motel manager had taken pity on her. Cameron knew that she probably looked like a total mess. In her rush out the door she hadn't even thought about what she would do once she got to Remy's place, much less how to leave. She had walked numb and oblivious for a few blocks before reaching a small motel.

The man at the desk was nice. He didn't ask why she was crying and gave her a room to be paid for when she got to the ATM the next morning. He didn't have to really; this was New York after all. She doubted she could remember her PIN number, so she just followed him to the last room on the left. The place was nice and the sheets weren't stained, so she registered that it wasn't _that_ kind of motel. She flicked away the mint on the pillow and crumbled onto the bed, bawling her eyes out.

Eventually, however her tears slowed and she took deep breaths. Why exactly was she crying?

She had always valued life. When her brother had ripped off the wings of butterflies in their backyard, she would collect the wings and body and give all of the insects a proper funeral. Then she supposed she had gotten older. She stopped believing in any kind of higher power when her husband died. At least that's what she told herself.

She was a hypocrite. She had walked in there like she was better than Remy and left her in the same fashion. No matter how much she pushed it out of her mind, she wasn't better than her. She tried to tell herself that she was split about Remy's job. She knew she damn well wasn't, she had proven that when she euthanized Powell last year. She _did her job, _Remy did hers. They did what they had to. And deep down, she knew that she didn't think what Remy did was wrong. It was one of House's little truths, mentioned at one point or another in her fellowship.

She had always been an idealist. She always wanted the world to spin in a perfect little circle and for everything to be good and wonderful. Anytime that didn't happen she would do everything in her power to fix it. But slowly she was realizing how little power she actually had. Over the past three years, House had made her realize that with his cynicism. It was his version of wisdom. He had just opened her naïve little eyes to the real way the world works.

Well, her eyes were open. What did she realize?

She was scared. She was a damn coward, someone who given the choice would run from every little thing that came their way. The only time she had stood her ground was with her husband, but that didn't matter. He had died and she couldn't do a thing. No control, that's what scared her. It had destroyed her, and she had never been more broken.

But the situation was so different now. What was she doing?

It all came down to Remy and the intense feeling she had for her. If she could only name it, perhaps she would understand her own actions. Was she her 'needy case' or was it deeper? If this didn't work out, could she face that broken feeling all over again?

What had set this off though was the money. The money had given her a reason to be mad with some sort of base behind it. It was blood-money after all, to accept it was to be an accomplice. Not to accept it was to cut Remy out of her life. But maybe that was the best thing. This was her opportunity to jump the fence, it was up to her.

She sunk down into the bed. She knew that whatever her decision, it didn't matter. She had nothing left to lose.

* * *

Remy remembered having more than a few drinks. The bar was packed; the overbearing body heat had been what she needed. She had never heard the band, or maybe she was too drunk to recognize it. She had let herself dance and get felt up, she didn't really care. She had a concealed knife if they tried any more than that.

When she finally stumbled out of the bar, she was beyond wasted. All of the streets looked the same to her glazed eyes. She managed to walk maybe half a block before her alcohol-filled stomach started to rebel. Clutching heavily to the side of a building, her whole body surged forward as she threw it all up. After a minute of the pure misery, she steadied herself and pulled out her cell, pressing 1 on speed dial. A voice immediately answered and she slurred the street name of where she hopefully was. Until then, she tried to fight back the nauseous sensation.

She didn't know why she drank sometimes. All she knew was that when she was sober, logic and rationality existed. Logically, she could only be distracted for so long before the images came back. But rationally, the booze wouldn't make her forget them.

They had always haunted her from the very beginning. And by beginning, she didn't mean her first hit. Two years previous, she had done a stint in the Peace Corps. She had wanted to do good deeds and help people. All it had showed her was how fucked up the world was. She had seen poverty, cruelty, hunger, disease, suffering, and more death than she could even comprehend. These days she wished she had been one of the ones who never mattered. It would be better than living like this day to day with their faces burned in her mind.

She recalled the first time she shot a gun. It had been an accident. She had been on the front porch with a family of six in Uganda. After working with the father to help him lay out plans for a new school in the quickly growing village, they had been enjoying a moment of relaxation just before sunset.

She knew she would never forget that moment. Three men came out of nowhere in a jeep and gunshots roared. Everyone fled, scrambling for shelter. Her heart raced, and she grabbed a gun that had somehow been dropped. Her vision blurry, she focused in on a young man running towards the family she had been laughing with only seconds ago.

And she shot. She shot all three and they fell down like a puppet that had had its strings cut. Her knees trembled and cracked like twigs. People slowly reemerged, and a raw cry pierced the air. Her head shot up to see the wife sink to the ground and cradle the youngest child, Moses, in her arms. She hadn't been quick enough.

The police arrived from the closest city maybe fifteen minutes later. She had been leaning on the outer wall of the house, not really seeing or hearing. A tall, stoic-looking man walked towards her. She expected either to be placed under arrest or to get a sympathetic look and soft Swahili words.

"You're a sharp shooter." He said in perfect English. Her eyes widened. "My name is Donovan Joseph. I'm with the American FBI. Will you come with me?"

They terminated the rest of her service in The Corps. On the plane home Donovan had given her a file. They'd done their digging and they knew everything about her. Would she be interested in working for them, off the books?

She felt like she would wretch again, but only spit and a bit of bile came out this time. She coughed and wiped her mouth. She leaned forward and buried her face in her hands. They came slowly at first, but soon she shook with sobs. The nights were the worst; she was always alone with their memories. She almost couldn't wait to forget them.

"Agent," A stern voice stated from above her.

She didn't look up. Let him leave, she prayed. Let him leave her alone. Let them all just let her fall into hell where she was supposed to be.

Donovan bent down and awkwardly wrapped his arms around her shoulders. "Remy," He tried again, his deep voice a bit softer, "Come on,"

He got her to stand up and led her to the black Ford Crown Victoria. She brought her knees up to her face, making herself as small as possible. He got into the car and drove the few blocks that it was back to 13C on 82nd St.

When he stopped the car, Remy didn't get out. He watched her for a moment, and she finally looked up. He could see the tear stains lit up from the surrounding city lights.

"She's gone," She finally whispered. The voice was foreign; it belonged to a small, forgotten child.

He sighed. He supposed he wouldn't have to worry about Allison Cameron after all.

* * *

*sniffles* I think both our girls need some serious lovin'. The longest chapter yet and I just torture them! Reviews will make them feel better I'm sure, and your loving author may lessen the angst. ilessthreethanyou, btw, you are correct! I trust you didn't use google.


	23. Chapter 23

Lynn was forcing her to take a break. She had been dragged down the hall by the middle-aged redhead and given a stern motherly lecture about the importance of three square meals a day and eight hours of sleep per night. Remy had tuned her out about two seconds in. Eventually, she sent her into the office and made her lay down on the couch. Now that she was here, she reprimanded herself for not crashing sooner.

She had woken up at two in the morning in her bed (somehow she had made it home) and had to stumble to the bathroom again. It would forever be a mystery about how there was anything left in her stomach. She went back to bed, but woke up repeatedly in cold sweats before fumbling in her medicine cabinet for the nearly empty bottle of sleeping pills. Idiotic, dangerous, and possibly lethal didn't register in her lethargic mind (they never did) before her eyelids finally became heavy and she finally found some form of temporary calm.

Remy sighed deeply. She had just frozen last night. Before she had had a chance to say one word, Allison had been gone. Then, like the idiot she was, she headed for the nearest bar. She turned over to minimize the burning lights. Either her make-up was flawless or Lynn was losing it. She liked the woman, but she didn't like how much she worried over her. It only made her angrier.

When she had realized how everything went down last night that was the emotion that hit her. She had wanted to talk to Cameron, to explain the account! When she asked her yesterday morning whether she would be coming back, that was her intent. That and their relationship status (face it, they'd seen the other naked twice in three days), but that didn't matter at all now.

She turned over again, groaning. The only way she could get Cameron back was to go down to Jersey, knock on her door, seduce her, carry her back to the bedroom, and fuck her so hard that she would have to stay still and listen to what she had to say. She admitted it wasn't the most chivalrous plan, but manners had never been her strong point.

Or she could try option two, be a sweet and caring woman who didn't make her income on killing people. That was definitely a preferable choice if there weren't so many damn strings attached. She didn't trust Donovan. If she tried to leave their little 'contract', they could easily match her DNA to a crime scene and arrest her. Besides, there was the shelter to think about.

She reluctantly sat up and stretched to grab the laptop from off the desk. She rested her eyes for a minute while it turned on, and then played around with the touchpad until she was looking at the shelter's finances. It was something she'd been trying to deny, but they were in the red. Deep in the red, as in facing nasty credit card companies and a red-faced landlord who would gladly nail an eviction sign on the door. The cherry on the cake was that the payments were due in three days. She had three days to figure out how she would save everything that mattered to her.

Sighing, she snapped the computer shut and placed it back on the desk. She wasn't going to get anything done just sitting here. Maybe she could make some calls and get some actual donations, or save money somehow. Maybe cutting down her $9500 per year salary would do it?

Remy shook her still throbbing head and made her way back to the main part of the shelter. It was a slow day, thank god, and pretty much everyone was standing around. She'd find Lynn and suck up about she was always right before heading back to her apartment. What she needed to do now was prepare to check out the Epicauta, which was most likely a bar or club.

Finally spying the woman at the end of a hall, she started walking towards her. As she got closer, she could make out snippets of conversation. Lynn was pacing and jabbering away on a cell phone.

"Ma'am, there must be a mistake, we've – No, but our church has – the potluck is on Sunday!" Lynn stammered, the blood going to her head as her brow furrowed.

Remy arched an eyebrow, mildly interested. She hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but she wasn't going to walk back down the hallway and wait until Lynn was done.

"I don't care if it's the mayor's daughter's birthday! We've had that spot in the park reserved!" Lynn continued yelling into the phone, pacing at a quicker pace. Remy hoped she didn't ware a hole in the floor; they couldn't afford new carpet.

"You know what? Fine! Thank you for your help!" Lynn spat into the phone and snapped it shut. She spun around and nearly jumped out of her skin. The woman shrieked and stepped back, scaring Remy as well.

"Remy!" She gasped and put her hand to her chest, "Didn't your mother teach you not to sneak up on people?"

"Nope," Remy grinned, "Sorry, I didn't mean to eavesdrop."

"Don't worry," Lynn said as expelled the deep breath slowly, "I'm still too young for a heart attack."

"Mind if I ask what that was about?" The brunette asked, motioning to the cell phone in Lynn's hand.

"Oh," Lynn sighed, "My church was planning this big potluck dinner in Central Park, but apparently the spot we reserved was taken. It's on Sunday night so we need to start praying."

Remy's head tilted a bit to the side, confused. "Why don't you just have it here?"

"Oh no, don't be silly. This place is already so busy!" Lynn gestured down the hall, where people were trickling back inside.

"No, we always have room for more," Remy put on her best persuading puppy face, "And we'll get to see if your casseroles measure up to my soup!" She added.

Lynn thought it over for a moment before letting a smile grace her thin lips. "It's from 6-9, but I'll take care of it all." The redhead glanced at her watch. "Oh dear, we better start dinner. I'll see you later then?" She asked.

"Actually," Remy said, "I'm not feeling that great. I was going to take it easy for a few days. Are you sure you'll be able to handle it?"

"Oh don't worry about it. You rest up, it'll do you good." Lynn patted her on the shoulder.

Remy smiled half-heartedly, "Alright. I'll see you then."

"I mean it," Lynn said sternly, "And drink some tea. Have some of your soup too, you need more meat on your bones." She patted her own plump belly.

Remy nodded. When Lynn finally turned the corner, she let her smile fade and ran her hand through her hair. It wasn't much of a weight off of her shoulders, but it was a start.

* * *

Ah, there we are. I wasn't being lazy, this chapter just had to simmer. I'm annoyed at myself though because now I have to write a whole Cameron-reflection chapter before we get some action! And, if any are wondering, I think this story may turn out to be the same length as Options. I really hoped it wouldn't but 31 chapters may be my golden number. Hm.


	24. Chapter 24

"You sure you know what you're doing?" Donovan spoke into the device on his watch from across the street.

"Stop worrying," Remy whispered, "I'm just checking things out." She adjusted her hair, which was in a loose bun, letting curled ringlets fall and frame her sculpted jaw. It was a good thing that she had dressed with class, because this place was most certainly not your average club.

Remy flashed her fake ID, Lily Enamors, to the man at the door. He gave her nod and she shot him a glare for staring at her ass. She couldn't really blame him though, the black dress she was wearing accentuated every curve so much that the only way she could give any men in the club more of a show was to rip it off. She could only manage to hide two small knives, which was why Donovan was sitting outside. The jackass didn't trust her not to fuck up.

She entered the large room and gasped slightly. The club was exquisite; high ceilings, modern furniture, hot waitresses, the whole shebang. The lights shifted lazily through the smoke-filled air, giving the room a more exciting feel. The music was in Spanish, no surprise, a dull thumping beat accompanied at times by the strumming of a guitar and a sultry alto voice. There was a woman or two sitting next to every man, dressed in even less that her. She spotted the one she was looking for: Jorge Romero.

He was the youngest of the bunch at 18. His slicked back hair and half buttoned up shirt combined with her background knowledge confirmed that he was the one she should seek out. He had been the last to join the group and the first the FBI had uncovered; he was the one she could manipulate if need be.

"Hola," She said softly. Jorge looked up from his beer and giggling girl on his shoulders.

"¿Oh?" He drawled, "¿Y usted qué quiere?"

She taxed her brain for the two years of Spanish she had taken in high school, connecting each word with its English meaning. What did she want?

She made an art of sitting down, enticing him with every movement, and raised a tantalizing eyebrow. "¿Para…" She started, "Hablar?" Talking was obviously the last thing he had on his mind.

He laughed, and she could tell from the sound that he was hooked. "Well then," He said in accented English, "there's a room for talking."

Thank god, the idiot spoke English. The only she could still speak fluently besides it was Swahili. "Not that kind of talking," She said with a sweet smile. "I'm here on business."

His lips parted slightly in intrigue, or perhaps drunkenness. "What kind of business?"

"My cousin has done some business with your friend Dominic. Do you know where I can find him?" She asked. Now was where the fine line of luck came in. Dominic was the one that there was the least amount of information on. He was the brain behind the business. The FBI had gotten one of the clients on their side in promise for a deal on his sentence just to get the basics on the man.

"Dominic?" He asked with a confused look on his face. "Oh! Dominique!" He roared with laughter and then turned towards the back of the club and shouted, "¡Dominique! ¡Hay una ejecutiva muy caliente aquí para verte!"

A figure stood up and started walking towards them. As the person got closer, her jaw dropped. Dominique was a tall dark and sexy piece of ass in a three piece modern suit. Silky dark hair covered partially hid grey eyes and rose red lips formed a small smile. Anybody would be attracted to this person. And one minor thing: Dominique was a _chica_.

"Me llamo Dominique," She said, "Encantada."

Remy gulped, but maintained composure. "Lily," She'd strangle Donovan by his tie when she got out of here. "Igualmente," She returned the greeting. Dominic – no, _Dominique – _was Eduardo's right hand. How royally could one federal agency fuck up?

Dominique smiled, "You are interested in our business?" She asked, placing a hand on her hip.

Remy stood up and moved closer to the woman, who was probably only one or two years older than herself, "In _your _business, yes." This chick was driving her gaydar crazy, much more fun.

Dominique brushed her fingers along Remy's left shoulder and collarbone. Remy tried not to stiffen at the ice cold touch. "Then why don't we have a _meeting_," She whispered, "And discuss your needs?"

Remy pursed her lips in consideration. "I'm hard to please. Maybe if you bring your friend Eduardo, we'll have a deal."

Dominique chuckled, "Bat for both teams, do we? Don't worry." She produced a card from her pocket, "Meet me here in three days and we'll work something out. I always deliver." She tucked it in the dip between her breasts and planted a soft kiss on the brunette's lips, which Remy returned. The crowd erupted in cheers.

Remy grinned, "Hasta pronto." Jorge toasted her and Dominique gave her a tilt of the head. She walked out to a few more cat calls and couldn't help but grin. She watched the setting sun turn the skyscrapers into various odd silhouettes as see walked to the corner and waited. In all of ten seconds, Donovan pulled up in a Mercedes Benz. She slid into the back seat and sighed.

"What were you doing in there, Thirteen?" Donovan asked as soon as the car started.

Remy rolled her eyes. "I have a plan. Don't worry."

Donovan sighed. That was easier said than done.

* * *

So I start writing this chapter as more Cameron depression, get 600 words and hit a block. Then I realize that just because I said I needed one doesn't mean I have to write the damn thing! So! Surprises galore! Thank you to Amazon Life for one Spanish phrase and iyimgrace for checking it over. And if you don't speak Spanish hopefully this chapter wasn't too much of a headache. Lily Enamors, by the way, has a second meaning which will be revealed at the end of the story :)


	25. Chapter 25

Cameron woke up around noon in the tangled hotel sheets. Upon remembering the previous night she attempted to sigh, but the rush of air through her throat sent her into a brief coughing fit. She tried to take a breath through her nose and found it stuffy and clogged. "Damn it," She groaned. Feeling her forehead, her worst suspicions were confirmed. It had taken all of a few minutes in the cold night air to get her sick.

She tried to fall back asleep, but her restricted breathing made it too difficult. She lethargically swung her legs out of the bed and hopelessly checked the bathroom for any kind of medicine. There were tampons and towels, but no cigar. Her shoulders dropped and she started grumbling like an old man. Fever, cough, lack of appetite, stuffy nose, sore throat – she had the fucking flu.

Before she could further hate the world, there was a knock on the door. She attempted to flatten her hair and wipe her red eyes before opening it. The old motel manager was standing awkwardly in the frame. "You alright?" He asked.

She nodded, "Just a little sick." Wow, even her voice sounded awful.

"I'm sorry," He said, scratching his balding head, "Y'know, with whatever you've been through, but if you're staying I need ya to check in."

Cameron recalled the conversation from last night. "Oh, right. I'm, I'll get going soon. Is there an ATM in the lobby?"

He waved his hand in the air. "Don't worry your pretty head 'bout it, I just might need the room. Ain't no reason for ya to pay for just the night."

She supposed there was some kindness in the world these days after all. "Really, thank you for everything." She said.

"No worries," He said again, "You need me to call you a cab?"

"No thanks, I have a friend who will come get me later." Cameron gave him a small smile.

"Right," The manager said, "And um, when ya go," He motioned towards the end of the hall, "Out the back way. Don't want people getting the idea that I give out free nights."

"Ok," She as a dizzy feeling came over her.

"You sure you're ok? He asked.

She nodded once, "Yeah, I'm just going to go lie back down."

"You holler if you need something." The man said sternly. She shut the door and groaned. Maybe the guy had a daughter her age or something, but she didn't need him to be so concerned. She walked back over to the bed and curled back up in the sheets and quilts.

She now desperately wanted to go home and just forget this whole mess, but she couldn't. She had parked right in front of Remy's apartment. She would have to walk back in front of the shelter and the apartment, Remy's homes, and drive away. That would have been much easier to do last night, when she wasn't dying, but what kind of idiot ran right past their own car?

She felt so overwhelmed. There was this immense weight on her chest, not just from this illness. It was an odd feeling. It wasn't heavy, but it was pressuring, like a balloon that was getting closer to popping with every breath she took as her lungs pressed it against her ribs. It was that hurt that was chaining her to this 16 by 20 foot room with ugly wallpaper.

She really messed up. She knew that. She had overreacted, or jumped the gun, or been an insensitive bitch, whichever you wanted. Unfortunately she couldn't change the past, but thinking back on it she hadn't even given Remy a chance to explain.

Sighing, she sat up in hopes it would help her breathe better and looked through the blinds at the traffic. It had somehow already become afternoon. Remy was probably out clubbing.

Being in this room really made it sink how alone she was. She preferred it that way sometimes, but it was nice to have someone to keep you warm at night. She was aching even for that kind of relationship. Every second she had spent with Remy had opened her heart back up, something she fought so hard to protect. Remy was obviously the same way.

She wondered if it was a lucky thing that she had run into Remy that night. Was this whole feeling good or bad? That was the question she needed to answer before she left this motel room. What was there to consider that she hadn't already though? It wasn't that hard, either walk up to Remy's place and throw herself into her arms to be possibly left heartbroken afterwards or go home, rest up, and call Cuddy when she was feeling better. It was really just a heads or tails decision.

So why did she feel so lost in her own mind?

She rubbed her temples, trying to ward off her fast approaching headache. She needed to not think, to not have to deal with this right now. She needed to find a comfortable bed and sleep, and she wasn't going to be able to do that easily.

With some effort she was able to partially sit up. She picked up the phone and after a moment of the dial tone, punched in a number that was still all too familiar.

"Chase? It's Cameron…"

* * *

*runs away and hides until the next chapter*


	26. Chapter 26

"Thanks for coming to get me." Cameron said with a scratchy voice. "It's a long drive."

"Don't worry about it." Chase assured her as he led her to his car. "You shouldn't be driving while you're sick. "

She nodded tiredly. She didn't like the way her was holding her shoulders, but during the two hours he had taken him to get there the flu had drained all of her energy. She wasn't so awful that she was puking her guts out, but she didn't have the strength to pull away from his grip.

"Do you want to sit up front or try to lie down in the back?" Chase asked.

"Front is fine," She mumbled. It'd be too bumpy and noisy for her to try and sleep anyway.

Chase nodded and walked around the front of the car, sliding in next to her. She sighed. He could have gotten a blanket from the back or something. A cold hand brushed her forehead and she jumped.

"Sorry," He quickly said, "I was checking your temperature."

She frowned slightly. His hands felt large and awkward. She had never realized how distasteful they were before. Maybe it was the fever messing with her senses.

"It's not too bad." Chase confirmed after roughly grabbing her thin wrist for a pulse."You can wait until we get to your place for some Ibuprofen."

She nodded, biting her cheek to hide a scowl. Just because she didn't need meds didn't mean that she didn't want them. Remy would have – no, she shouldn't think about Remy. She couldn't exactly call her up out of the blue and ask for some TLC after last night, at least not yet. She just needed to go home to her nice warm bed and watch 30 Rock reruns with good doses of TCM.

"So," Chase said, clearing his throat, "What were you up here for?"

Cameron froze. What she would give to have been born a pathological liar about now.

"Um," She finally started, "An old friend from Med School called me up to Mercy for a consult."

He nodded. "So why did you spend the night?"

She noted his jealous and accusing undertone. "I was feeling under the weather and thought I'd feel better in the morning."

A small silence followed as they made their way through the city and eventually reached the traffic jam before the bridge out of Manhattan.

"I called you," Chase mentioned, "On Tuesday, and yesterday at noon. Why didn't you pick up?"

"Grocery shopping," She deadpanned.

"Uh huh," He muttered.

Cameron rolled her eyes and quickly regretted it. She lolled her head so she was facing him. "Can you drop it?"

"What?" He asked.

"Chase," She said sternly. "I really don't want to deal with you right now."

"Deal with me?" He turned to fully face her, his voice rising.

She felt a familiar throbbing in the back of her head and closed her eyes. "Chase," She said again, softer.

He sighed. "I'm sorry, I just..." He ran his hand through his hair. "Sorry."

Cameron sighed too and rested her head against the seat belt. Things may have been less chaotic if she had called Remy. Images of the brunette floated into her mind and she was too tired to ward them off. She smiled lazily and let her heavy eyelids close. After a few moments the dull hum of traffic sent her to sleep.

* * *

Cameron slowly felt the sensation of someone shaking her shoulder. She groaned and cracked her eyes open to see Chase looking down at her.

"We're here," He said softly. She could see over his shoulder that it was twilight.

Cameron sighed and unbuckled herself. Chase took her hand and led her to the building and she couldn't help but flashback to a few weeks ago where she had led Remy up the same stairs. They reached the apartment door and she leaned against the wall. Just the walk up was exhausting. She pulled the keys out of her pocket, very thankful that she had remembered them last night, and they fell through her fingers.

"Oh," She said softly and started to bend down.

"I got it." Chase quickly grabbed them and he hit her coming back up.

"Ow," She gasped, clutching her shoulder.

"Sorry," He said, although he didn't look it. He handed them to her, but the clinking of the keys and the similar shapes only made her dizzier. Seeing this, Chase took them from her and unlocked the door, holding it open for her. She thankfully nodded and headed straight to the medicine cabinet. She heard the door close and washed a handful of pills down with tea from the fridge.

Chase cleared his throat. She turned to see him standing somewhat awkwardly in her doorway. "So," He started, "Will you be alright then?"

She quickly nodded. "Thanks again."

He gave her a grin. "It's about dinnertime. Do you want some company?"

"Oh," She said, stealing a glance at the clock, "No, I've taken up plenty of your time. House told me that you were going to Arizona, you're probably really busy-"

"Oh no," He said with a chuckle. "You know how House is." He started walking over towards her, "Always making trouble…"

Cameron raised a curious eyebrow. "So you aren't moving?"

"Not if you aren't." He smirked and placed a hand on her hip.

She quickly recoiled, "Chase, how much more clear do I have to make it that I don't want-"

"Come on, Cameron!" He exclaimed, "I'm getting tired of it! You were always flirting with House, and then you got bored and used me!"

She rolled her eyes. "I used you? We had a deal to get what we needed at the time, but I don't want your 2.5 kids and their boogie boards."

"I'm not asking you to have any kids!" Chase shouted. "I just want to give us a chance!"

"Well I don't!" She screamed, slamming her palm on the counter. Seeing his stunned expression, her narrowed eyes and furrowed brow softened. "Look, Chase," She softened her tone. "These last few weeks have been really hard, for you and for me. And…I've found someone."

Chase's nostrils flared. "And who would he be?"

She looked down at the counter. "_She..." _She saw his face contort in a mixture of surprise and confusion, "-is the best thing that has happened to me in a long time."

Chase inhaled and exhaled a breath slowly from his chest, turning around and running his hand over his hair and face. She felt a definite pang of emotion in her chest. Finally he turned to face her. "Well," He said slowly and deliberately, "When you're done _experimenting_, let me know. Get whatever you need to out of your system, because if she really mattered you wouldn't have called me tonight." He gave her a cold glare and then walked out of the apartment, his anger evident in his echoing footsteps.

Cameron felt tears prickling at the corners of her eyes. The only person she could possibly have relied on had walked out on her after she had told a flat out lie. She was at her limit, and she had a gut feeling that the fun had barely begun.

* * *

Thank you for allowing me to live long enough to write this chapter. This is the last of pretty boy we will ever see, I swear on the donuts I ate this morning. All of his floppy hair, manly chin, and hands that won't keep off of Cameron make me sick!


	27. Chapter 27

It was Sunday, the day of rest. Yes, running around like a chicken with its head cut off was definitely restful. The last few days had been stressful to say the least. Between plans for drug lord Eduardo De Santigo, the shelter's finances, and concocting some amazing plan to win Cameron back, Remy was living on caffeine, adrenaline, and one hour power naps. She had always been one to ride a high for as long as possible before crashing. The crash always sucked because her mind and aching body caught up with her.

There would be no time to rest tonight. She had it all worked out. She needed the money by tomorrow morning, so the hit had to go down tonight. After taking down Eduardo and Dominique, the FBI would soon follow with warrants on Juan, Pablo, and Jorge. Donovan would pay her a lump some of five million, a fraction of what it would have cost to take the gang down by legal means, and the shelter would be saved. Then she would change, go to the potluck, and chat up potential donators for some steady income. Before the night was over, she could get some roses and drive down to Cameron's. It had taken a hell of a lot of alcohol, but she was ready. She would tell her.

Of course, nothing was going smoothly. It was half an hour until the potluck started and everything was a mess. The shelter staff was setting up tables, women were bringing in food, and everyone had such thick Brooklyn accents that she wouldn't have been able to understand even if she had held still for a goddamn minute. Along with Lynn she was directing what went where and sitting everyone down with people shouting her name from every direction.

"Remy, need you over here!" She heard a familiar voice and sighed exasperatedly.

"Yeah, I'm coming," she grumbled. Squeezing past everyone, she finally reached a small niche in between the hallway entry and the kitchen door. A Hispanic woman in her early thirties caught her eye. "What's up, Jodie?" Remy asked, confused. Jodie was the infirmary's head so there was no reason for her to be in the main room.

"We need help in the clinic," she said, attempting to flatten her flyaway dark brown hair with little success. "We're out of practically everything and it's packed up there. Where's your friend Allison?"

"Not here," Remy said, making conscious effort not to snarl. The clinic was always overflowing. "Can we get some people down to Mercy?"

"Afraid not, there was an accident up the block. The roads are closed off, and I sure as hell ain't calling any of these guys a taxi. We need more supplies." Jodie went on to mutter in Spanish and waved her hand in the air in frustration.

"I know, I know," Remy quickly answered, "I'm putting in an order tomorrow. Now do you want me to come help you or did you just need to vent?"

Jodie gave her an 'Excuse me?' look. Remy sighed. If she had learned anything about the shorter woman, it was that she had a temper. "I'm sorry Jodie. I didn't mean it like that, I just-"

"Don't worry about it," Jodie gave her a sympathetic look, confirming Remy's thoughts that she probably also looked like mess. "Just get me those supplies, got it?" Jodie quickly changed tones and grinned cheekily.

Remy rolled her eyes, "Got it. See you later, Jodie."

The woman gave her a nod and started to walk away.

"Wait, Jodie?" Remy called.

Jodie turned back around. "What?" She asked breathlessly.

"Those patients that needed blood tests, do we have the results to give them?" She questioned, trying to keep her voice's pitch normal.

"Yeah, I dropped the files off in your office. Put them in the record then give them to Sherry to give to the patients, ok?" Jodie quickly answered, the initial confusion fading from her face.

"Ok," Remy said. Satisfied that there would be no more random questions, Jodie disappeared back into her world of sanitary wipes and Amoxicillin. Remy turned back around and surveyed the grand hall, looking for a distraction. Dishes were on the table, people were sitting down, and everything else looked okay.

"Lynn!" She called. The woman's head perked up through the crowd and she made her way through the crowd.

"What's up?" Lynn asked.

"Can you handle it from here?" Remy questioned, gesturing to the people now getting in line to dish up.

Lynn nodded confidently, "Big date tonight?"

Remy chuckled, "Something like that."

Lynn beamed. "Give Allison my best then."

Her jaw dropped and Lynn roared with hysterics. "Very mature, really," Remy said with an annoyed tone.

Lynn waved the comment off. "Get out of here!"

The young woman gave her a small smile and nod before heading to the office, where the file and her weapons awaited her. It was a risk bringing her gun here, but she didn't have time to waste. Closing the door and locking it behind her, she made it all of two feet into the room before sensing another presence. She looked up cautiously. Allison was sitting on top of the desk, her legs dangling off the sides.

"Hey," she said softly.

Why couldn't things _ever _go as planned?

* * *

Before she had time to say anything, Cameron had started speaking again. "I'm sorry," She quickly said, "I know, I have no business even being here. You probably want me out of here so I'll make it short okay?"

"Cameron, I-"Remy started, but Cameron cut her off.

"I'm sorry," she apologized again, "I was an idiot. I didn't give you a chance to explain anything and jumped to conclusions on top of being hypocritical. I would have come sooner, but I got sick and ended up called my ex, which blew up royally, and wanted to just clear my head for awhile. Then I got your message and felt even more guilty and confused. And now I'm just kind of rambling, aren't I?" She trailed off meekly and met her eyes with a pleading look. Closing them, she took a deep breath. "So here I am."

Remy stood there, stunned. Then, slowly, she walked over and enveloped the blonde in a tight hug. Cameron clutched her back and rested her head on Remy's shoulder, feeling tears in her eyes. Remy exhaled an uneven breath. She felt her heart beating wildly and only wanted to hold the older woman closer.

"Why?" Remy spoke the single word softly, desperation in her voice.

"I…" Cameron started, "I was scared. All of this kind of came out of nowhere, I was too scared to jump in. But…" She paused for a beat. "I think I'm ready now."

Remy had to laugh quietly. "Don't get _too_ sentimental on me."

Cameron leaned back too meet the brunette's eyes. "So are we ok?"

Remy bit the inside of her cheek. "You know how I said we had to talk?" Cameron nodded. "There's just a lot to talk about. And right now is really the worst time to do it." She spied the folder on the desk and clenched her jaw.

Cameron read between the lines instantly. "You're going to…?"

Remy looked at the ground and nodded. "But this one is bigger than the others. It'll keep the shelter afloat long enough for me to find real backers, so I won't have to keep doing it anymore." She assured her.

Cameron's eyes widened. "Why did you start it in the first place?"

Remy sighed. She knew that she would ask that, but she didn't have time to explain or a summarized answer to give. "Do you trust me?" She finally asked.

Cameron looked momentarily puzzled at the question, but bit her bottom lip and slowly nodded. Seeing this, Remy pulled the older woman in and kissed her lips, softly but passionately. Cameron slowly returned the kiss, melting in the lips she had sorely missed.

Remy parted enough to break the kiss, but her lips were still so close that they brushed Cameron's as she whispered. "I need you to trust me."

There had been no answers provided. It was still blind faith. But against any rational judgment, Cameron nodded. "I do."

They stayed like that for a moment, just breathing, letting the commitment sink in. Remy broke the silence. "I want you to take my keys and go to my place."

"Remy, I-"

"I need you safe." Remy said solemnly.

"And I can't let you get hurt again." Cameron fired back. "More money means it's more dangerous, right? You need me there."

They engaged in a staring contest, expressions interchanging between seriousness, anxiety, and pleading. Cameron grasped the brunette's thin wrist tightly, reaffirming her presence.

Remy sighed. "If you're coming, you're hiding in the backseat behind a guy who knows how to fire a gun."

Cameron nodded and wrapped her legs around Remy's. "I don't plan on getting used to it."

* * *

Stupid FF was being a bitch this weekend, huh? C'mon, the wait was worth it ;)


	28. Chapter 28

Before we begin, iyimgrace and I (being nerds we are) decided to cast Moon Bloodgood (yes, from Terminator) and Djimon Hounsou (from Gladiator). If you already have a firm idea of what they look like, (go me) you could have just ignored this whole bit. Enjoy.

* * *

"Are you sure about this?" Cameron asked as Remy strapped the gun-holding belt on her upper thigh. They were sitting in the back of the car with Donovan, who was looking as grumpy, concerned, and generally displeasing as ever, at the wheel. Cameron was uneasy about this part of the city, a series of old buildings and abandoned warehouses.

"Don't worry, okay?" Remy assured her. "It'll be fine. Just stay here, and when you hear gunshots keep your head down."

The use of 'when' instead of 'if' struck a chord with Cameron. She still wasn't okay with Remy's lifestyle, it would mean overlooking too many of her carved in stone morals, but she was slowly understanding. The guilt Remy always felt was proof that she knew what she was doing was wrong. Until she heard her out, she couldn't judge.

Seeing Cameron's anxious expression, Remy kissed her softly on the cheek. "It'll be okay," she whispered again. Cameron took a deep breath in attempt to get rid of the lump in her throat, and gave Remy a weak nod.

"It's time." Donovan murmured, checking is watch.

Remy looked up at the FBI agent and nodded solemnly. She checked that the gun was securely in place and exited the car with a sleek briefcase. Her dress was midnight blue and brushed her thighs midway with a high neck and low back. It gave her the look of an Oriental goddess. She had to play the role of seducer and customer, and may have only minutes before her cover would be blown. Giving a last glance back at the car and meeting Cameron's eyes, she started her resolute walk towards the storage facility ten yards to her right.

Cameron got out of the car and slid into the front seat beside Donovan. She was still feeling uneasy. She would much rather be here than waiting at Remy's apartment like last time, but it was all too unnerving. Donovan took note of this. Of course this was the first time Cameron had met Donovan, Remy having introduced him as 'her idiotic boss who prefers to cover his own ass or stare at hers'. Cameron admitted that he seemed like your typical FBI suit, but under all of her emotional turmoil the rational part of her mind said otherwise.

"So you're Allison Cameron." Donovan stated, starling Cameron out her state of deep thought.

She cleared her throat, "um, yeah."

"My name is Donovan Joseph," he said.

Cameron nodded slowly. "So you're Remy's…?" she trailed off.

"I'm the one that has to make sure she doesn't get killed." Donovan sighed.

"Do you go with her all the time?" Cameron asked. From what she had seen, Donovan didn't do his job very well.

"No, but I'm part of an investigative branch. When the bureau gets a case, we acquire all possible information we can. Sometimes it isn't enough to get a warrant or win in court. If the circumstances are dire, we contact Remy." Donovan explained, scratching his brow. Personally, he didn't think anyone at 26 Federal Plaza pulled their weight nearly as much as they should. They shouldn't even need someone like Remy.

"How long has Remy been 'working' for you?" Cameron questioned warily.

"A little over a year," Donovan said.

There was a heavy pause while Cameron let the information sink in. "Do you know why she does it?" She asked quietly.

Donovan's slightly bushy eyebrows perked up in surprise. "She hasn't told you?"

Cameron shook her head. "She keeps telling me that she'll explain, but…"

Donovan noted the amount of conflict the woman was in. After looking through her history, he understood her character. How she was so attached to someone in Remy's profession was puzzling to him.

"It's not my place to tell you." He finally said.

"But if she," Cameron's voice unexpectedly caught in her throat. She cleared it and tried again. "If she gets hurt, or-"

"Back-up is only a block away." Donovan motioned to the speaker on the dashboard. "This is safe."

"Would you really tell me if it wasn't?" Cameron accused him abruptly. She admitted that right now she was the one in the dark, but she sensed the man's ulterior motives. Why was an agency like the FBI in need of Remy? They had plenty of guys with the black glasses to go take her place undercover.

Donovan turned to face her, the sharp angles of his face illuminated by the street lights. "We are fighting a war at home and abroad. We don't have the time or resources to carry out effective undercover operations. Our best approach is to take out as many leaders as we can, which is Remy's job. She knows the dangers and accepts them. If she wasn't vital to our fight on gang wars in this city I wouldn't condone her actions. Any more questions?"

Cameron exhaled a breath through her nostrils. Remy was right, he was an ass. She looked out window at the warehouse Remy had entered. The tone of her next question was surprisingly soft compared to Donovan's sudden loss of composure. "Do you care about her?"

Donovan leaned his head back against the headrest, "Deep down, probably."

"Then why did you cut off the shelter's money?" Cameron asked with a definite snarl.

"I didn't, it was my boss. Some people think this isn't the right way to handle the crimes, or that there shouldn't be any compensation on her part. It's an ongoing thing that I have no control over." Donovan explained and met her eyes. "This stays between us, but in the bureau's history this is about the best I've ever seen anyone use that kind of money."

"She gave some to me," Cameron said, "Ten thousand dollars. Do you know why?"

Donovan thought for a moment. "In my experience, the people who pay for kind acts don't think they deserve them."

Cameron felt her heart tug at the meaning behind the words. "Whatever she thinks she's done, it couldn't have been that bad." She murmured.

"She thinks it is." Donovan said solemnly. He opened his mouth to speak again, but without warning multiple loud bangs erupted from the warehouse. Cameron's eyes widened. There were too many for one gun.

"Code 34-s, shots fired!" Donovan shouted into the transmitter. He opened the door and ran towards the shots. Cameron was only a second behind him.

* * *

Oh no!! And another thing, I know I haven't updated twice in two days in ages, school's been hectic and I apologize. Crossing fingers I'll have the next one done by tomorrow. And yes, that's the actual code for shots fired. I looked it up.


	29. Chapter 29

Get your popcorn. This is going to be intense.

* * *

It took her a moment to realize that she was still alive. Yes, her heart was beating, blood was circulating, and thoughts were forming. The blackness and blur of the last few seconds was slowly clearing and words floated into her subconscious. Deal…gun…Allison. Allison…Allison was outside. No, she would run in and try to help. She couldn't let her, she was-

"Oh god," Remy gasped, her eyes snapping shut. Searing pain shot through her body, paralyzing her limbs and squeezing on her heart. She tried to take a breath, but her lungs instantly rebelled and she coughed weakly. A metallic taste gathered in her mouth. Coughing again, she spit the blood out onto the dirty concrete floor. She pinpointed the pain to her chest, side, and a more dull pain coming from her head. She had landed somehow on her back with one arm over her chest wound – good for the chest, not so much for the head or side.

"Hurts, doesn't it?"

Remy heard a voice, but only saw the abstractly patterned wood and concrete fifty feet above. She exhaled a shallow breath. It was getting hazy again.

Suddenly she felt cold metal against her head. Dominique was bending down over her. "You thought you could fool me," she said softly, "But if you were genuine you would know that your 'father' was killed last night, courtesy of a few friends of mine."

Dominique then proceeded to push her dress up past her thighs, revealing Remy's gun. "So that's what I felt. Not very original," she continued, but Remy tuned her out. She was becoming numb to Dominique's taunts and the pain in her chest. She was going to die on this concrete floor. Finally, it was all going to end.

Cameron's face flashed through her mind. Of all possible last wishes, she wished that she had had a chance with the blonde doctor. Even if she could never tell her she loved her, she had wanted to explain.

Love?

Yes, she loved her. That was this feeling, or at least as close as she could get to it. Wow, how cliché, to have an epiphany like that moments before you die. Next thing she knew her soul would be rising out of her body and she'd be in front of pearly gates. Well no, she shouldn't go overboard. It was almost amusing how she was passing her last moments by being a smartass. In a moment the rational part of her mind would kick in and spit out some bull that endorphins and abnormal chemical reactions were side effects of being shot.

She tried to move and the agony raced through her like she had been whipped across the back. Ok, not the best idea. Cracking open her eyes, Dominique's malevolent gaze came back into focus and any possible hope she had quickly faded. Cameron deserved to know the truth, but the shoulda coulda wouldas didn't matter now.

Dominique twisted the head of the gun deeper into her hair. "Do you take me for a fool, _puta_?"

Remy tried to answer, but only succeeded in choking on more blood. That was probably a good thing or her brains might have been blown out. A hand slapped her cheek hard enough to twist her neck to the right. Great, at least the blood was out of her mouth. Eduardo and Jorge's footsteps echoed in the vast space. Maybe they were going to join in the celebration.

Where had she made a mistake?

She had walked in just like Hillary Clinton, demanding respect with each step and ready to beat someone to death with her heals. Dominique was sitting on a crate with Eduardo and Jorge leaning against the wall, guns on crates beside them. Dominique, unarmed, smirked at her.

"You have the money?" Jorge asked right away.

Remy walked over to where the gangsters were and set the briefcase on the crate next to Dominique. She unclipped it, revealing a mass of bills. Jorge greedily grabbed some and held them up to the ceiling, illuminating them slightly. He sniffed them and grinned, "It's legit."

"Of course it is," Remy said with confidence. She turned to Dominique, "And I trust you have what I came for?"

"Of course," Eduardo said. He tilted his head up and Dominique hopped off the crate and pried it open. Remy glanced inside and her heart leapt a bit at the numerous duffle bags full of drugs. She had them now.

"Wonderful," Remy said, "But that isn't the full deal."She walked over to Dominique and raised a tantalizing eyebrow. "Is it?"

Dominique closed the crate and hopped back on, "Of course not."

The alluring woman ran a hand over Remy's shoulder in a gentle caress. Remy chuckled and leaned in closer so that she was between Dominique's legs. She then ran her hands up the sides of her leather jacket, to excite her while checking for weapons. Satisfied, her nimble fingers slipped Dominique out of the jacket and brushed her bare arm in the process, making her shiver. Remy grinned. She was the dominating one here.

Meanwhile, it was clear that Jorge and Eduardo were the guinea pigs of this operation, for they had no means of controlling their slack-jawed mouths or their manhood. Out of the corner of her eye, Remy saw Eduardo pull his loose black t-shirt down in a failed attempt to hide this fact. Jorge was too distracted. Maybe they didn't show The L Word in Mexico.

Satisfied that there had been enough foreplay to get the woman riled up, Remy pulled the white tank top up enough to reveal Dominique's exquisitely tanned stomach and kissed it, letting her tongue roam and her fingers play with the buttons of her jeans. Looking up, she saw Dominique's eyes lit up. She stood up and pressed her body into the gangster's, whose hands were now running down her legs. She started placing kisses on her neck. Perfect, now to just-

Bang.

A shockwave sent jagged pulsations through her body, like nerves firing electric shocks and ricocheting chaotically. A second wave hit her full force and then a third, choppy waves of raw power and anger. She distinctly felt her body freeze, and then nothing.

"Want to know a secret?"

A definite, overwhelming ache was replacing the blind pain in her side. She could feel the blood pooling on the floor. Hadn't Donovan heard the shots? Dominique stood up in a blur and placed her foot on Remy's stomach. She heard the blood make a squelching sound as it filled the carved lines of Dominique's boots. This time she only managed a whimper. She'd haunt Donovan forever for letting her die like this.

"I had planned to kill you from the start. You had that look in your eyes. Know what that look is called, chica?" Dominique dug her boot into Remy's stomach and the brunette let out a strangled cry. "It's bloodlust."

Remy's eyes opened wide. She met Dominique's gaze. She could have sworn that her eyes had been grey when they first met, but now they were shadows swirling in the irises. A smile graced her killer's lips. Was that her expression after shooting someone too?

Dominique chuckled and put the safety of the gun back on before sticking it back her pants. "It's really too bad, I'm sure you would have been great in bed."

Eduardo and Jorge looked up at Dominique, waiting for approval. Dominique shrugged with an indifferent smile. Eduardo quickly tossed his gun aside.

"Get your hands in the air!"

Donovan was standing in the door with his gun at the ready, aiming at Eduardo's head. In a split second decision he made a grab for his gun and Donovan instantly shot him in the chest. Dominique and Jorge took off and sprinted across the warehouse, ducking behind crates and shelves. Donovan continued shooting and another thud was heard, along with a scream. Jorge was down.

Cameron made a dash across the floor and was soon at Remy's side.

"Remy? Remy!"

No, she had to get out. Dominique was still there, Allison had to get out of here. It was all getting hazy again.

At least the last thing she saw was something truly beautiful.

And then the darkness seized her into its clutches once more.


	30. Chapter 30

At first, all she could hear was the air. It was the steady rhythm of currents, the second nature of breath that she loved. It was the first thing a baby yearned for and stole from the world, and from then on pulled it in unconsciously.

When she was a child, she would sit outside in the winter, watching her breath form puffy clouds, coils of smoke and abstract mirages of vapor. She believed it was only visible in the winter because of the magic in the air, and then she would run her fingers through it until they were red and trembling. She tried to catch it along with the snowflakes and take it back inside, but it never worked. Then, most nights, her father would come and take her by the shoulder and bring her back inside. She felt the air. Did that mean she was alive? Or was there cold air in hell?

Then there were other sounds, more like sensations. There were more vague flickers of life, and then they became distinct. Yes, they were voices.

"Is she waking up?"

"She should be."

"She needs to wake up quickly." No, no she shouldn't. She didn't want to.

"She got shot for god's sake, shut up." That was Allison's voice. No, she couldn't face her.

Her eyes cracked open and the bright lights instantly hit her retinas. She groaned and let them fall back shut.

"Remy? Remy, can you hear me?" Her furrowed brow eased slightly at the sound of Allison's voice. Despite the quickly returning pain in the back of her head, she nodded. She tried opening her eyes again, but this time the beams sent aggravated bursts of pain through her skull. "Damn," she muttered. Her voice was raspy because of her dry throat.

"Turn down the lights." Allison said, noticing Remy's discomfort. There were footsteps and then a click. When she tried opening her eyes for a third time, she could make out Allison leaning over her and Donovan's silhouette by the door in the dim light.

"Remy," Allison breathed, relief washing over her.

Remy exhaled a breath and gave her a small smile, "In the flesh. Well, mostly." She said softly.

Allison's smile faded. The apparently joke wasn't appreciated. "What were you thinking?"

"Are you okay?" Remy deflected. Now that her mind was clearing, her worry for the blonde doctor overwhelmed her.

"I'm fine, Donovan shot the two guys." Allison quickly answered. "What the hell were you thinking?" She asked again.

"Don't worry, I'm – "Remy tried to sit up, "Ah!" She clenched her jaw and squeezed shut her eyes, biting back a scream. The bones in her chest felt like glass that was trying to support lead with the help of jello for muscles. The overwhelming pain came out in the seething whimper. Her thin frame lowered back down an agonizing few inches into the sheets and uncomfortable mattress.

"You're not fine, you were shot. Twice!" Cameron said with a stern glare. Remy sighed shakily, clutching her side. Like her head, that pain was getting worse.

"I had a Kevlar vest," she tried.

"The thinnest and lowest quality of Kevlar vests will still let bullets pass through at point-blank range, _agent_!" Donovan interrupted. He stood by the door with his arms crossed and narrowed eyes. Remy felt her heart drop a few inches into her stomach. That was his 'you're in deep shit' face. She rolled her eyes. The room spun a bit and she covered them with her hand.

"Headache?" Cameron asked. Remy tried to nod while not moving her head any more than necessary. Once the feeling passed, Remy saw Cameron standing and hanging a bag of painkillers. Only then did she fully realize that she was in a hospital room with an IV jammed into the vein on the back of her left hand and a tube delivering oxygen to her nose.

"Donovan," she immediately turned to the FBI agent, "You brought me to a hospital?" He knew how much she hated the places.

"You're at the FBI's medical center." Allison explained, sitting back down. "The vest may have saved your life by stopping the bullets enough to prevent massive bleeding, but you had internal damage from the trauma of their impact and a concussion from falling to the floor." Her stern face softened and her voice died down. "You could have died, Remy." Remy bit her lip, knowing that it was time for the tear fest. Sure enough, a few tears slipped out of the corners of Cameron's eyes and she quickly brushed them away.

"But I'm not, okay?" Remy assured her, "I'm not dead." She said quietly, to Cameron and herself. Cameron still didn't look at ease, so Remy gripped one of her hands with her IV-free one and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"It was too dangerous of a situation," Donovan spoke up, "I shouldn't have allowed it."

"Don't cover your ass," Remy fired back. Donovan's pager went off and he unclipped it from his belt. "When can I get out of here?" Remy questioned as he read it.

"Remy, you can't just jump back from this. You were in critical condition." Cameron enforced again. She didn't understand why the brunette was just trying to ignore the situation at hand.

"You won't be." Donovan said with a solemn face.

"What?" Remy asked. Confusion was written on both women's faces.

"Dominique has eluded the teams we dispatched after you were shot. She knows your face, and if she knows that you are alive, she will come after you. I can house you in a safe house while you recover, but after that you will be on your own. My higher ups have decided that they no longer require your service. The bureau can't help you." Donovan answered.

"Donovan, you can't do that!" Remy exclaimed.

"Do not tell me what I can and cannot do!" He spat. "You knew the risks! And to make things worse, you dragged a civilian into it all!"

Cameron's eyes widened. "What, do you think I'm going to rat out Remy to the Mexican drug trade?"

"No, Dominique didn't catch glimpse of you, but if she can find Remy, she can find you." He informed her, his fists clenched. The bureau never understood the full consequences of its actions, but this was something he could have avoided. Seeing their stunned expressions, he dropped his tense shoulders and sighed. "I'm going to make some calls and see what I can do. All I can say is that you two will need to make some decisions, quickly." Donovan met each of their gazes and then left the room with a nod, walking hurriedly down the hallway. If he could fix this, he would.

They both sat in heavy silence.

"So what do we do?" Cameron finally asked.

Remy didn't answer right away. She noted the exhaustion etched in Cameron's face and her bloodshot eyes. She couldn't ignore the guilt from the sight. Under the physical pain, her heart was aching. She should have never let Cameron come along. This whole mess was her doing. Finally, she took the blonde's hand and brought it to her lips, kissing the knuckles softly. Cameron fought back more tears and climbed into the narrow bed with Remy, careful not to touch her tender abdomen. She took Remy's hand and gripped it tightly. Right now, even though Remy was alive, Cameron was still numb.

* * *

Sorry for the wait, I actually have a life and needed to be somewhat social and internet free all day on Sunday. So I didn't purposely torture anyone. This chapter started out as crap, but it's growing on me. I think I'll be going past 31 chapters, yay.


	31. Chapter 31

Donovan blinked slowly and deliberately while waiting for the elevator, futilely trying to clear his head. This day was by no means going well.

He had always worked for the good of others. He had grown up in Uganda and seen war and evil from a young age. He moved to New York with his parents when he was ten, for a good education and a chance to make something of himself. He had risen through the ranks from an average Harlem punk to one of the top students in his high school, going to Columbia and graduating with honors. Then he had gone straight to the government, where he could serve his country like a good citizen would.

His years in the bureau had taxed him. He had made decisions his parents and friends didn't understand, like going back to Uganda. It was just something he had to do. He wanted to work to improve the lives of children in his home country just as much as in the US. He worked with the Ugandan police against the Lord's Resistance Army, and that was how he met Remy.

He had been informed that the shooter was an American Peace Corps volunteer who was to be escorted back home on the next flight to New York. Being raised to think of women as ultimately inferior, he assumed from the report he had received that the shooter was a man. Looking around the scene, he identified Remy not by the fact that she was the only white person, but by the glazed over look in her eyes. He recognized the look.

He remained detached, even when she started crying on the ride back to the American Embassy. He wasn't sure if she even realized that she was crying. With about three hours until they reached Kampala, Remy fell asleep with tear stains on her cheeks. Donovan ignored this and continued driving. About thirty minutes later, she became restless and started crying again, accompanied at times by sharp gasps or whimpers, trying to escape from whatever torture her mind was subjugating itself to. Finally, an hour before they reached the capital, he pulled over and began to shake her awake. She jumped and her eyes opened wide. Seeing him, she scrambled away from his hand. He withdrew it. That was when he began to question her inner workings. Was there something else that had motivated her to kill those men? Perhaps it was the same thing that sent her to the Peace Corps?

"You were having a nightmare," he had said in English, "Are you alright now?"

She stared blankly at him for a moment, but then nodded. It was like she hadn't heard him at first. He brushed it off. Shooting three men would make a person disconnected. Within minutes, Remy's head fell back onto her shoulder and her tangled hair fell freely around pallid face. He noticed her thin wrists and sculpted jaw, and thought about her eyes for a moment. Yes, he had seen the usual amount of blank shock in her eyes, but he couldn't get her expression out of his head. He sighed and started the car again.

When they arrived back to the embassy she was only half awake, so he led her to a soft bed and she drifted off again. He stood by the doorway and observed the moonlight highlighting the tops of her forehead and cheeks. If he looked close enough, it dusted her eyelashes and lower lip with an ethereal glow. He silently closed the door. He didn't feel any attraction towards her, but he couldn't deny that she was captivating.

Arriving at his own quarters, he used his laptop to bring up the information she had submitted to the Peace Corps. This only further interested him, so he pulled up more information on her, then on her parents. He let out a shaky sigh after reading it thoroughly. He had never grown up in the best neighborhood, but he sympathized.

However, as the report of her earlier actions ran through his head, he suddenly felt resolute. She had the same goal as he did: helping humanity.

He would fill out the incident report for the Ugandan and US government then fax it over to his commander back at the New York headquarters. From how he saw it, every party could stand to gain from an arrangement.

The elevator finally arrived and his nostrils flared. It had been a move of pure folly.

She showed minimum expression or interest during the transcontinental flight. He typed memos, reports, and read agendas while she stared out the window. When he finished he passed the time with some mystery thriller that the stewardess had on hand, and when he finished that she was staring at the ground. She looked weary, so he recommended that she nap for the remainder of the flight. She reclined the chair into the sleeping position, but remained awake and stared at her hands. When they finally landed, she met his eyes and nodded. She would do it.

He informed her of how things would work. His bosses had been hesitant, but with all of the terrorism and gang violence the bureau was resorting to more unethical and illegal methods. They agreed, but it was to be completely off the books. Her payments would go directly to an account, forged to look like a regular FBI paycheck to a false name. Donovan would be the only one to directly contact her. She moved to an apartment closer to Federal Plaza, and he brought her some of his books as a housewarming present. She smiled a bit and thanked him.

Then, the night of her first assignment, she was different. He had let himself in, but when he stood just inside the kitchen she didn't even look up. She was staring at a piece of paper. He walked over and thought about placing a hand on her shoulder, but ultimately decided against it.

"Are you ready?" He asked, trying not to startle her.

Without a word, she crumpled the paper up into a ball and slid out of the chair. She met his eyes. He would never forget her eyes right then. They had changed however subtle it was. It was something he couldn't identify. She held out her hand. He swallowed and ignored the shiver down his spine as he placed the cool metal in her palm.

It went down without incident. She emerged from the building without a mark on her. That's when he felt the first sensation that maybe there was something wrong. They reached her building's back alley and exited the car. Then, after the goodbyes and before his departure, she reached back inside her pocket. She smoothed it out the best she could on her pants before handing it to him. Her hands had started to tremble.

He took it from her and read the title. His heart sank and he scanned the rest. There were rusted tints from blood splatter in certain places where she had smoothed it out on her clothing. Closing his eyes, he handed it back to her.

She took it and formed a ball again, this time carefully molding it, almost like a treasure. She then pulled out a lighter and held the paper in her hand. Once it was lit, they watched it melt into itself, illuminating their faces with flickering lights. Donovan watched her as she continued to let it burn, unflinching even when the cinders and scattered flames singed her hand. When the smoldering paper finally stopped smoking, she crushed the remnants in her fist. "Now I am," she whispered.

The elevator opened and he exited, focusing on his next destination. Since Allison Cameron entered Remy's life, she hadn't been the same. He was certain of that. But maybe that was a good thing. Maybe it was time that Remy stopped helping humanity and started helping herself. He had tried and failed, but that wasn't going to stop him from trying to help her one last time.

He opened the door. Six pairs of eyes sitting on shadowy faces were abruptly upon him.

"Gentlemen," he started, "Thank you for coming."

* * *

Happy Ham Day! That's right, I said Ham, because one I actually know that they ate ham at the first Thanksgiving, which was in Jamestown, not Plymoth, and two I don't like turkey. Then again, I don't like ham and will be eating chicken tonight. Poor turkeys. So anyway, I thought a Donovan centric chapter was needed. I love Donovan, I push him around too much not to give him a little something.


	32. Chapter 32

She was in another room. It had the same linoleum tiles as her room, complete with scuff marks and dirt permanently embedded in the cracks. She wasn't sure how long she had been here this time. A day or two, she supposed. A nurse brought her a book so she would have something to do. She closed it, sighing, and stood up. Wait. She shouldn't be able to stand without her side splitting open. Nothing hurt.

She looked down and saw smaller hands, a loose sweatshirt instead of a hospital gown. There was a sudden shift in the atmosphere. She looked up and saw a face she hadn't seen in years. His eyes were lidded and he walked with a distinct drunken stumble. He moved forward too fast for her to react and grabbed her wrist. The wall behind where her head had been only seconds before started to crack. The icy rain on the windows hardened, sealing her in. Dread overcame her; even if she could escape this room, the doors only led to more endless dead ends. She couldn't hide from anyone.

She woke with a start and sprung into a sitting position, breathing heavily. She shook her head from side to side, ridding and remainders of the dream. Her hair stuck to her sweat covered neck.

"Are you alright?" she heard a voice ask, "You were thrashing about."

Blinking a few times, she realized that it wasn't the voice of the man in her nightmare or the voice she had been expecting. She turned and saw that the spot Cameron had been curled up on was now empty and cold. She swallowed a few times to regain her composure and so her voice wouldn't crack. "Yeah, Donovan, I'm okay," she whispered, running a hand through her hair.

"Are you in pain?" Donovan asked, walking over closer to the bedside.

"No," she lied. Remy subtly moved her hand to cup her injured side. "I'm fine."

As observant as ever, Donovan noticed and wrapped his hand around her wrist. She jumped, startled, and her hand hit his. The sheets were pushed away and revealed a quickly growing red strain on the gown. Donovan brushed it with his fingertips and Remy couldn't hold in a yelp. She twisted up her face and dug her elbows into the bed as he tried to get a better look.

"You pulled out some of your stitches," he sighed and pressed the button for the nurse.

"Whatever," Remy said through gritted teeth. "Where's-"she paused as the all too familiar sharp bursts of pain started again, "Where's Cameron?"

"She went to get coffee." Donovan explained as the nurse finally came in through the door.

"Can't she stitch me up?" Remy asked. The nurse gave her a displeased look.

Donovan ignored the request. "I'll be back later." He said and started walking towards the door.

"Donovan!" She called after him. He turned around. "Is she okay?" She asked, not even wincing as the nurse pressed a firm hand on her side.

Donovan nodded. "She's fine," he assured her. She pursed her lips and gave him a small nod. He returned the gesture and left the room.

"Thanks," a voice whispered. Cameron was sitting on a small leather couch somehow squeezed just outside the room in the dimly lit hallway. A full cup of very cold coffee sat on the floor beside her. She had her legs up on the couch with her arms wrapped around them, staring at the wall in front of her, away from Remy's room.

Donovan nodded, a bit sympathetic for the woman. "Why aren't you in there?" He asked.

Cameron took several deep breaths before she was able to string together words reflecting her actions. "Because…when we first got here, I couldn't leave her side. I wasn't even thinking, except about her – how, how she had to live, she _had _to. And now that she's awake…she's going to tell me everything." She opened her mouth again, but couldn't find the right way to say what she meant. "And now," she started again, barely audible, "I'm scared. I'm scared that maybe, maybe I can't do this. I jumped at a chance out of it once already, and maybe I'm just not strong enough. It's all so crazy, and I have no idea what I'm doing or what I'm feeling, or what's right and wrong anymore."

"And maybe…" Cameron breathed, tears budding in the corners of her eyelids, "maybe I don't want to know."

She tried blinking away the tears but eventually they escaped in rivulets down her pale cheeks. She wiped the first few away, but when it was apparent that they weren't going to stop she buried her face in her knees, bracing her arms around her head – a perfect shield that a turtle would envy.

Donovan looked down the deserted hall and back into Remy's room. The nurse was still in the process or stitching the bullet wound back up, but Remy's peaceful face told him that she was currently in some hazy, morphine-induced dream and would be there for a few more hours. He sighed and sat down on the couch next to the doctor and placed a soothing hand on her back.

Suddenly she came out of her shell and clutched tightly onto him, bawling on his shoulder. Though shocked and feeling incredibly awkward, he wrapped a muscular arm around her and let her cry. The poor woman hadn't slept since Remy was brought in, almost 24 hours ago. Remy, having two bullet wounds, wasn't the best person to have a death grip on at the moment. When the nurse came out of the room she gave him a pitiful look. He had gone from the infernal bastard to the shoulder to cry on in the course of a day. He did feel for her as she shook from the sobs, the waves of emotion and walls she was bringing down.

Cameron finally wiped the last of her tears away and sniffed a few times. "I'm sorry," she croaked, "I-I just ruined your suit. "

"It's alright." He said. He hated the damn thing anyway.

"Is the FBI going to do anything?" Cameron asked, regaining a bit of her voice.

Donovan sighed. "I tried my best. They're currently talking amongst themselves."

"Who is 'they'?" Cameron readjusted her position so her legs didn't cramp for days, tucking her calves underneath her.

"My commanding officer, the head of our department, and a few others," Donovan said. "But they aren't just talking about Remy. " He muttered.

Cameron looked down at the floor. "Thank you," she said suddenly, "You're doing a lot. I was harsh before, I shouldn't have-"

"Don't worry about it." Donovan cut her off, his tone surprisingly caring. "She…she's done more for me than I've ever done for her."

Cameron raised a curious eyebrow. Donovan looked at her and she quickly looked away. He grinned slightly.

"I had a wife," he explained, "We got married about a year ago. She wanted me to retire from the FBI so we could start a family. I was a field agent, it was dangerous. I told her that she had married me and that she would have to learn to deal with it. Needless to say, she didn't take it well. I was always out late. She was convinced I was cheating. So one night, she followed me on an assignment."

He paused. "She was killed in a drive by, Irish mobsters. The shots were meant for me."

"I'm sorry," Cameron said softly.

Donovan didn't reply at first. "I didn't ask her to do it. I didn't even know that she knew." He ran his broad hand over his shaved head. "She started hitting bars after that. I've picked her up from more than I care to count, and she yells how much of a jackass I am." He couldn't help but grin at the moments as he spoke.

Tears were blurring Cameron's vision again. "I had a husband, when I was 21," she said. "Right before we got married, he was diagnosed with terminal thyroid cancer."

"And you married him anyway?" Donovan asked.

Cameron nodded, smiling as the bittersweet memories came back to her. "It was the worst decision of my life. And if I had to do it over, I'd marry him every time."

There they sat, on a leather couch facing white washed walls, bathed in scattered lights on the ceiling. Donovan patted her thigh. "I think I need some coffee." He said casually as he stood up and stretched.

She chuckled. "Can you get me one?"

"Why don't you get some rest," he said, motioning along the couch, "And then when you wake up you should get something to eat."

She smiled, acknowledging that her stomach was close to eating itself. "Hey," she said suddenly. "How is she?"

Donovan smirked at the similar words. "Right now she's high on morphine. Get some rest." With that he started walking back down the hall.

Cameron smiled. Love, like morphine, made you do stupid things before you eventually passed out. She laid her head down on the arm of the couch and her eyes quickly grew heavy.

Love. Maybe it was that simple.

Thankfully, before she had time to comprehend the thought, she was already asleep.

* * *

It's so funny. Last night I had all of 200 words done, then I somehow pulled off the rest in one sitting with absolutely no vision of the plot! So lucky you! I trust everyone's holiday was so busy they didn't have time to review, but thank you to those who did. And despite the vast amount of lurkers, thank you all for sticking with me on this epic ride. It is indeed wrapping up very soon, but I can't give you an exact number. Ok, I'll shut up now and let you get to fangirl squealing!


	33. Chapter 33

It had been just over 48 hours since the shooting. The two times Remy had come out of her morphine haze, it had been for more morphine. Each time Cameron had been out of the room for one reason or another. Remy couldn't deny that she was worried. Too many things had happened too fast for either of them to calmly take in. This time when she woke up, despite the awful soreness, she was determined to fight through the pain until Cameron came back into the room. The pain was much more bearable when she had woken up for the first time with Cameron by her side.

Donovan hadn't been in either. As a result, a lot of things were going through her mind. She felt like a prisoner waiting to be led to the gallows. What awaited her now? She couldn't just walk out of this room and go back to her little routine.

She knew that she couldn't have kept this whole kill the bad guys and get the girl thing going. Life didn't work like that. Life had dealt her a fucking awful hand, but she had only made it worse with her own choices. But, in a way, this could be her second chance.

What had compelled her to go with Cameron, that very first night? She had let the blonde talk her into coming up into her apartment. She had let her touch her and clean her wounds. Remy had even flirted with her a bit. Was it based solely on her being drunk, or on the fact that she would never have to see the woman again? Her motel hadn't been that far away; she could have walked back and passed out like she usually did.

She hadn't had to have slept with her. She didn't have to deal with her a second time. That, she knew, had been a combination of her alcohol and her ego. It was about gaining the damn control back over Cameron, who had been left hanging, but also more than that. There had been something in that first meeting.

And then, before she knew it, she was telling her life story and letting Cameron in. That's when she had come to her senses and tried to push her away, but Cameron wouldn't let her. By the time Cameron did leave, Remy had grown so attached that it had hurt. It had hurt.

Then she had come back. She had come back, and Remy had gathered her into her arms. For a split second, she had been happy.

This web of lies she told her acquaintances had been so carefully, consciously spun. She had concocted an excuse for any question, an aversion for any kind of attempt at a connection. She either went to a club at night and got wasted or barely had enough energy to make it to her apartment. It was a cycle impossible to keep up, but she had done it to herself anyway. Before, there had been no reason for her to think of doing anything else.

She had gotten soft. She had let someone in. At first, that person felt like a threat to that twisted kind of order. What was she supposed to do, drop everything and skip off happily into the sunset with Cameron by her side? She had been afraid to feel again. She told herself that it was perfectly rational, since she had only been hurt by letting people in.

In the three days of indecisiveness, she had done a lot of thinking. She knew that if she didn't push everyone away, the world wouldn't totally come to an end. She'd actually be happier. She told herself that general avoidance was the best way for her to go about living. Less people would get hurt; less people would be there to miss her. It was selfless. It was misery.

She couldn't deny that she didn't want to live this way anymore. But again, she had trapped herself, and it came back to the shelter. This was her safety net to make sure she never let her emotions get the best of her. If she just left out of the blue, there would be questions from the staff and inquiries about the shelter's income. It would inevitably close. It was selfish. It was human. It was a life, something she was sure she had missed the memo on.

So she had made up her master plan. It would save the shelter and set her free. Everything would be as well as they could be. Then things had their usual way of not going as she intended, and now she was stuck in this hospital bed. She peered through the opening of the gown to look at her stitches. They looked better now, but they would definitely leave large scars. They were just another two to add to the collection, but these scars reached far below her skin. These were the scars people who weren't afraid to love could wear proudly.

She heard the door's hinges and looked up to see a familiar blonde standing in the doorway. Remy sat up as best she could and gave her a small smile, "Hey."

Cameron returned the grin with a bit more apprehension in her voice. "How're you feeling?"

"Can't complain," Remy said. Cameron nodded. Seeing her discomfort, Remy added, "I'd feel a lot better if you came over here, of course."

The doctor walked over and sat on the end of the bed. Remy propped up some pillows behind her back. Despite how much she wanted out of the damn bed, bullet wounds took time to heal. Cameron watched her struggle with a mixture of concern and pleasant amusement.

Remy glanced at the door. "We're alone," she said, "Finally."

Cameron nodded in agreement, "Yeah." Her expression seemed anxious.

Remy met her worried eyes. "We… need to have that talk." She said softly.

Cameron took a deep breath. "Yeah, we need to talk." They really did, and they both knew it. It had been put off for far too long. Once they were both completely honest, things would either all come together or all fall apart.

They sat in silence for a moment. "Could you come closer or something?" Remy asked suddenly, changing tones as if she had asked Cameron to pass the salt.

Cameron raised a confused eyebrow, "Um, sure, but why?" She asked as she crawled up the mattress.

"So it's less painful for what I'm planning to do," Remy gave her a bit of a mischievous grin.

Cameron was now sitting beside her, sitting with her legs parallel to Remy's. "Well, what are you planning to do?" She questioned, letting her fingertips brush the younger woman's arm.

Remy's eyes met hers in an intense yet calm gaze. Slowly, she leaned forward and kissed her. It was unlike any of their previous kisses, full of either pure lust or caution. It was deep and meaningful, an eminent symbol of trust. They parted at the same time, their lips tingling.

"Before we talk, I need you to know something." Remy whispered, speaking clearly and letting each word sink in."I love you. If this is feeling is love, than I love you."

The words hung in the air like a storm ready to downpour. Cameron's eyes filled with tears and she captured Remy's lips in a fervent kiss. Remy kissed back and ran her fingers through Cameron's hair, knowing that there was no reason for her to need to say the words 'I love you too.'

* * *

I really hope this chapter didn't suck, considering I edited it at 3 in the morning so it would be ready to post right now. Does that qualify as obsessive or something? So yes, finally, next chapter is the big talk. Bring popcorn.


	34. Chapter 34

Song is Devil's Trade by A Fine Frenzy, I don't own but I wish I could date her. Listening isn't required but the lyrics hold a bit of symbolism.

Also *gasp* using the M rating here!

* * *

Cameron was curled up beside Remy in the bed, resting her head on Remy's shoulder. Remy was turned on her good side, letting her arm rest on Cameron. She ran her fingers across the curves of the woman beside her, down to her lower back and up to the exquisite hollow of her neck and collarbone. She dotted kisses along the region, committing every detail to memory. Cameron stretched out her legs so she lay parallel to Remy and kissed her softly.

_Under the nightgown _

_And over the skin_

_Turn all the lights out and_

_Let us begin_

Cameron's fingers brushed the place where she knew Remy's stitches were. She felt Remy recoil out of instinct and their eyes met. Remy's gaze gave her the assurance she needed. She helped Remy slip out of the hospital gown and Remy took the heart monitor off of her finger. Remy helped Cameron remove her shirt and threw her bra to the floor. Remy kissed her again and Cameron's blonde locks soon became tangled with her own.

_Gather this fallen_

_Bird to your breast_

_She'll sing you a song if you_

_Take her to bed_

Cameron adjusted herself under the hospital sheets so she was straddling the brunette and nipped at her neck. Remy's hands were roaming her body and she felt herself melt with every slight caress. They wandered further downward and she let out a moan, muffled by Remy's lips. She slid a hand down into the heat of the woman below her and felt bathed in sunlight.

_Oh, the devil's trade_

_Freedom for all our days_

_The apple at the price of the snake_

_And I will pay…_

Cameron melded her body with Remy's own. Remy let out a strangled cry and writhed against her. The blonde momentarily paused, afraid she had pressed to hard against her wounds, but Remy pushed herself up against her and captured her in another deep kiss until her lips felt raw. What Cameron would give right now to never have to breathe again, to never have her lips part with the amazing woman below her.

_Soft as a dormouse_

_Untangle our limbs_

_A kiss on the knee, now you're _

_Gone with the wind_

In a burst of strength, Remy pushed herself up and turned Cameron over so she was on top of her. Kept upright by her IV hand, she unbuttoned Cameron's jeans with well honed skill. Cameron kicked the pants off until they were scrunched up in a pile at the end of the bed, and no sooner than that Remy was teasing the waistband of her panties. Cameron lifted her legs to give Remy easier access. She was already so close. All it took was one touch and Cameron was already floating. She felt a sensation of falling upwards, somehow only obtainable as Remy continued to show her love for her. She somehow caught her breath enough to whisper the words Remy had told her earlier. Remy paused and met her lidded gaze, understanding that between them, nothing but this moment mattered. She felt another kiss brushing her lips and this time flipped their positions, running her tongue through the valley of Remy's breasts.

Remy was overcome with pleasure Cameron ran a finger down her clit. In a split second, a moment in limbo, she realized that the feeling wasn't truly as she remembered from their previous encounter. Each second was agonizing and heavy with emotion. Each action had a meaning behind it, and in a sudden revelation, she realized that these feelings inside her really existed. Someone was pouring out their love for her, giving her anything she could think to ask for. The overwhelming flood of feelings took over her mind, making thoughts impossible. She moaned in ecstasy as she came, her back arching and pushing her body into Cameron's. She felt that if she could stay like that, then maybe every scar would vanish.

_Everything's different_

_And I don't belong_

_I'm cold as a kitchen in the _

_Breaking of dawn_

_And though it hurts to breathe_

_I'd die before I'd leave_

Cameron collapsed beside her, chest rising heavily as she caught her breath. Remy closed her eyes and exhaled slowly, unable to even move. There could be no more hiding, no more secrets now.

"Allison…" Remy breathed.

Cameron turned to face her, delicate stands of hair framing her face, the sweat forming a slight sheen. The blonde nuzzled herself against Remy's tender breast, "Yeah?"

"There's one more thing that I have to tell you," she said, her voice cracking. She wasn't surprised. After something so amazing, it only made it harder.

Cameron draped her arm over Remy's stomach, giving a presence of comfort and protectiveness. "After all this, you can tell me anything. Please baby, talk to me. Don't run away, because I'm right here." She whispered softly, cupping Remy's cheek with her hand.

_Oh, the devil's trade_

_Freedom for all our days_

_The apple at the price of the snake_

A single tear escaped the corner of Remy's eye, as she knew it would. Because when she was totally, brutally honest with herself, she knew it didn't matter even if Cameron loved her back. The end result, the very end, would be the same.

"I'm dying."

_But I will pay…_

* * *

Oh dear, curveball! I actually threw myself one too. I planned talk then sex, but sex then talk is more dramatic. Major kudos to anyone who actually ate popcorn while reading. Thank you guys for all the great reviews last chapter! I've been getting questions about the final chapter. This is obviously not it, I plan at least 2 more. Ok, you can go crazy now.


	35. Chapter 35

"What?" Cameron whispered, which Remy barely heard.

"I-I'm sick," she choked out as whole new batch of tears formed. "I have Huntington's."

Remy saw Cameron's eyes widen and a wave of dread wash over her. The color drained from her face and she cupped a hand over her mouth. Remy wasn't surprised. Cameron was a doctor; she knew exactly what it was. She swallowed back the tears and continued before she didn't have the power to. "I spent my whole childhood in and out of hospitals, watching my mother die. My dad would go get drunk to deal. Then he'd get home and he expected me to take care of her somehow. If everything wasn't perfect, he'd start hitting me, but he never remembered in the morning. She was too sick to stop him. Then the day she finally…" she stopped for a moment, before she choked on the tears.

"He banged my head against the wall of a waiting room. " Remy continued. "He went to prison and got killed. After that I escaped from the foster home they put me in and drifted from shelter to shelter for a few years. After I turned 18, I got a GED. But I did some bad stuff too, got into selling drugs out of the bar I worked at. Then one day, this punk gets high off the dope I just sold him and killed a kid right outside the place."

She paused and wiped away more tears. "I wanted to do as much good as I could after that, so I joined the Peace Corps. But one thing led to another, I met Donovan, and he told me his proposal. So I got tested…and it came back positive. I started up the shelter with the money I earned, and that's how I've been living ever since. If you want to call it living..."

Remy finished and there was only stunned silence. She tore away from the Cameron's gaze. The arm propping her up at the elbows trembled and she collapsed back onto the bed. Her whole body began to quiver. She couldn't breathe; the blonde's eyes were poring into her, she couldn't get away.

A hand grazed her back and she jumped. She tried to pull away and felt a pair of arms wrap tightly around her, holding her close. Hot tears poured out of her eyes before she could stop them and soon her whole body shook like a leaf with her breath only coming in small puffs. Her lungs felt engulfed in sulfur, squeezing her airway and severing her lifelines.

Cameron held Remy tighter, clenching her bare back and pressing the brunette's face further into her neck. She feels the tears pouring down but makes no motion to stop them. She can't describe her state of mind any other way than shell shocked.

Remy continued to sob and dug her nails into her palms. Every pain had gone completely numb, but she wasn't sure if that was a good thing. All she knew was that she was crying because she finally said it. She said it; it was a fact she couldn't drink away or ignore anymore. A thought ran through her mind that now, for sure, Cameron has to leave. Who had she been trying to fool? She focused on the feel of Cameron's hands. The sensation let her recapture some of her numbness, but more tears slid down her cheeks.

"And you think I wouldn't stay by you?"

Remy's eyes shot open. She felt something wet in her hair and realized that Cameron was crying too. "That's why you think you have to do all of this? You're dying so you have to bite the bullet – literally? You don't think you deserve to be happy?" Cameron asked incredulously, wiping a few strands of hair out of Remy's face.

Remy shook her head hysterically, "I can't do that to you, it's not-"

"It's not fair? You think I don't know that life isn't fair?" Cameron quickly interjected in a comforting tone. Remy started to sob again, a reservoir of years of anguish being let go.

"I don't want to die," she whispered. It was her ultimate selfish act – living. If she was totally selfless, then there would be no reason for her to even be here. Her selfishness was the only thing stopping her from jumping off a building.

"I know," Cameron shushed her, "but we have time, you don't have to self-destruct anymore." She cupped Remy's face with both of her hands, waiting until her tears cleared so she could look directly at her. "Listen to me. I love you. As long as we're right here, together, that won't change."

"I can't ask you to watch me die," Remy hiccupped.

"You don't know when that'll happen, you –"

"I took the CAG test. The results are on the desk back at the shelter." She said softly.

Cameron wrapped her arms tightly around the brunette's waist. "Throw it out."

"What?" Remy asked.

"Throw it out," Cameron repeated. "It doesn't matter." She paused and tried to gather what she was trying to say. "These past few weeks have made me feel more alive than I can ever remember, so I don't know if you can call what I had before a life either. And as sentimental as it sounds, all I'm sure of right know is that I love you. Somehow we can get through this."

Remy looked pleadingly into her eyes and buried her head in Cameron's shoulder, letting out a muffled sob."It hurts," she gasped, "it hurts, it hurts…"

"I know," Cameron whispered, biting back a sob, "I know." In truth, she didn't know exactly what Remy meant. Maybe Remy didn't either. What had hurt her the most? The pain of her childhood, the loneliness she had endured for years, or the crushing weight of a death sentence? She didn't ask. She didn't know what to do. She felt completely drained off hope, despite her words. The last few moments didn't exist, Remy wasn't dying. There was no possible way after all of this.

She suddenly longed that she had never went to that bar that night. None of this would have ever happened. Maybe ignorance really was bliss, compared to knowledge and heartbreak.

Suddenly, the door slid open so quickly that it rebound off the hinges. Donovan burst into the room, "Come on, we need to le – oh god," he quickly turned his covered his eyes. Cameron quickly scrambled for her jeans and retrieved her shirt from the floor. Remy pulled around on the sheets until she found the similarly colored hospital gown. Once both emotionally drained women were decent, Donovan turned back around. "As I was saying," he gave them both disdainful looks, "get up. We need to leave."

Both women took a moment to comprehend the words. "Leave to go where?" Cameron asked, stunned beyond belief for the second time that day.

"The airport," Donovan said, folding out a wheelchair. "I have it all arranged and will explain on the way, but we don't have time to waste."

"I can walk," Remy told him, giving the wheelchair a nervous look. Cameron glanced at her worriedly.

"You'll be walking at the airport. For now, get up. We need to go." Donovan made a wary glimpse toward the clock, then at the hall.

Not having time to ask questions, both women climbed out of the bed and followed him, dreading what the FBI agent could have planned.

* * *

I'm so annoyed. I spent all day Thursday doing an assignment for school, but Friday morning I found out it wasn't due til Monday. So i short I lost potential writing time. This chapter (which was maybe the one chapter I actually had all planned) came out very different. I'm sad to say that the last chapter is the last, but I know that nobody will predict what I have planned. It's really about time to wrap up, I just hit 40,000 words! Don't worry though. I had a new story epiphany literally 5 minutes ago. But I really can't give away too much of that yet :)


	36. Chapter 36

Before we start, I have to note that the title and is whole story was inspired by the song 'The Moment I Said It' by the amazing Imogen Heap. Somehow I channeled it through the whole story. I recommend listening to it after you finish reading.

* * *

They were seated in the back of one of the FBI's cars. Cameron was back in her wrinkled clothing and Remy was wearing a loose t-shirt and jeans Donovan had given her. The only thing Cameron had been able to grab were some morphine tablets for when Remy needed them. Right know the younger woman was curled up against her with her hands around Cameron's waist. Cameron had one hand protectively on Remy's wounds and another running through her hair. Remy wasn't saying anything, but neither was she. They were both almost too mentally exhausted.

A huge wave of relief had washed over Remy at the fact that Cameron still loved her. She was finally running dry on tears, for which she was grateful, but next she felt overwhelming guilt. She was still dying; Cameron loving her didn't change that. In fact it may only make it worse. No matter what Cameron said, she didn't want anyone to have to watch her die. Was even love worth that?

Now that Donovan was taking them to the airport, Remy was fearful that they would be forced to make decisions that needed years of time to make in only a matter of hours. She tried to recoil back into her unfeeling world, but she made another discovery that it no longer could exist. With her mind starting to overload, Remy felt a dull throbbing pain in her side she hadn't sensed for hours. A speed bump jolted her car and she gritted her teeth, but was determined not to let Cameron see. She knew it was her defense mechanisms kicking back in, but she couldn't stand to have Cameron see her so weak again. She settled for a shift in their positions: she sat up and leaned her head against the window, allowing Cameron to lie on her chest.

Cameron felt Remy shifting away from her, which made her come out of her little state. She had been trying to focus in on anything – the blur of the buildings, the shadows of the car seats, the shining strands of Remy's hair. By only thinking about that one thing and observing such a tiny, unnoticed piece of the universe, she was able to continually trick her brain into not thinking about anything else. After a minute it failed and she had to shift her focus on something else, making her seem jumpy. In her head she could be described as such. Under the brim, her thoughts were hail stones ricocheting around in her mind and tangling every perfect wire connection.

With every mile Donovan sped towards the airport, she seemed to find fewer distractions. Images of Huntington's patients from her past rotations flashed through her mind. She saw her husband and his pain, the grief and brokenness of family members who had lost a loved one. She wanted to scream how that couldn't happen to Remy, that it just was all wrong, but the more she thought about it the more it made sense. It was a simple explanation, fitting so perfectly in the complex puzzle she had futilely trying to solve, but at the same time completely wrong! Out of nowhere, she heard House's nagging voice. She shook it off, but quickly started to question everything. Had she really ever been attracted to Remy? Had she subconsciously known the woman's secret all this time?

They hit another speed bump from Donovan's maniac driving and Remy gripped her hand. Cameron looked down at her fingers. Remy's fingers were wrapped perfectly around her own, encompassing them in her palm. The brunette gave them a squeeze, making her own fingers turn a pale white with tension. Cameron looked up and saw Remy putting on her strongest face. Her heart broke all over again.

Cameron waited until Remy released her hand to wrap her arms around her and finally let her own tears out. The grief in her heart felt like it was taking over her whole body and consuming her. Whether Remy was her lifeboat or her sinking anchor, she couldn't tell.

Letting out a shuddering breath, she gripped Remy tighter. Everything was happening too fast. She was sure that she wasn't thinking straight, but this may be her only time to think. Each rule she lived her life by had a purpose, many of them brought on by her husband's death. The most important one was to never get hurt again. Choking tears being wiped away by Remy's hand told her that her mental stone pillars of morals were being worn away. But was it a clean slate or a monument eroded by turmoil?

"We're here."

The voice startled both women out of their states. Donovan was looking over his shoulder with his arm resting on the seat. They were parked by an aircraft hanger with a runway a few yards away. Remy could see the airport terminal in the distance.

"Do you want to explain now?" Cameron asked. She was mildly surprised when her voice cracked. She supposed it was from all of her crying.

Donovan nodded. "Follow me."

They exited the car. When it came time for Remy to get out, her legs quickly began to shake. Cameron was by her side right away and swung an arm over her shoulder. It wasn't surprising; Remy had lost a lot of blood and strength. It should have been at least a few more days before she started physical therapy. For her to even be standing was quite a feat.

Donovan saw this and also started to offer his support. Remy gave him a glare and he backed off, opting to open the hanger's side door instead. Once inside, they saw a massive plane in front of them. Various other things, crates and repair supplies mostly, edged around the perimeter. Remy took advantage of this and sunk down on a box near the door.

"You okay?" Cameron asked softly. "I have painkillers."

Remy shook her head, "I'm fine." She felt her stitches and winced. It was getting worse.

Cameron took note of how much pain Remy was in, but didn't say anything. She didn't feel strong enough to force down Remy's walls. She settled for leaning against the wall next to her, so Remy could rest her head on her hip if she wanted to.

Donovan cleared his throat. "I'm afraid that things didn't go as well as I had hoped. The FBI has officially terminated their agreement with you." Remy's eyes went wide. "But," Donovan said, "I did manage to pull a few strings. The money that would have been paid for bringing down Santigo will be paid to the shelter, even though Dominique is still on the run. As for you…" He trailed off.

"Just tell me already, Donovan." Remy said with an odd sense of calmness.

"They've decided that it would be best to either put you in witness protection or to have you flee the country." He said solemnly. "An article of your death will be in the papers tomorrow, as a car accident."

Cameron cupped a hand over her mouth and felt new tears spring into her eyes.

"I'm sorry," Donovan continued, "I genuinely am. But I need to know whether you want to come. And I need an answer right now."

"What?" Cameron managed. She felt a hand clench hers tightly. Looking to her left, she saw Remy staring at Donovan, disbelief all over her face. Remy's hand had instinctually grabbed her own.

"If you don't come, I can't guarantee that you will ever see each other again. The cartel will track Remy down if she stays. Even the terminal isn't safe." Donovan explained, giving a glance toward the building in the distance.

"Where am I supposed to go?" Remy asked helplessly.

"I have a friend at the American Embassy in the Netherlands. She could help you start a new life, and I have some money. I can also send along any possessions later. This plane can take you anywhere you want to go." The agent said. They both stared at him in utter shock, trying to comprehend this final, devastating blow. "I'll give you two a few minutes to decide what you want to do." He gave Cameron a pat on the shoulder before walking towards the plane. He climbed up the stairs, probably to talk to the pilot, leaving both women in the vast silent space. Cameron sunk down next to the crate next to Remy and rested her head on the woman's shoulder.

"What should we do?" Cameron whispered after a moment.

Remy ran her hand through Cameron's hair, flicking the blonde ends between her fingers. She softly pulled Cameron's head up so she was facing her. "I can't tell you what to do, but I can tell you what I know. I probably have more emotional baggage than even that plane can carry. I've killed people, even if they were awful people. And no matter how much I deny it, I'm dying Allison," she paused as a tear slid down Cameron's cheek and softly wiped it away, "I'm dying. I'm the reason that you have to be in this situation, and I feel so awful that either way, I've hurt you so much. I never wanted to drag you down like this…" Remy embraced the doctor tightly, "but I'm glad I did. I know that this taste of love I've had with you has been the most amazing thing I've ever experienced, and I wish so badly that we had had more time with it. I love you, and I don't want it to end. I don't want to lose you."

Cameron couldn't listen to any more and broke down crying. She wondered how many tears she had shed in the past three days. "Let me finish, okay?" Remy shushed her softly. "I don't want to leave you, but it's not my decision. You have a life beyond me. You don't have to come just because you feel obligated or guilty. Even if you love me…" she trailed off, swallowing back her own tears. "Even if you love me, you can walk away."

Not sure what else she could do, Cameron kissed her, tears still streaming down her face. Remy immediately deepened it. Emotions poured out through the passionate kiss, more than either woman could describe. When they parted, Cameron closed her eyes and leaned her forehead on Remy's. When she opened them again, the doctor's blue-green eyes spoke volumes. Remy lost herself in their depths, and she understood without words. She planted a single soft kiss on the blonde's lips. They left her own tingling, but barely distinguishable through the pain of her side. She closed her own eyes and buried her face in Cameron's neck. Cameron held her tightly, and they stayed like that until footsteps were heard again.

Donovan cleared his throat. Both women glanced up. He walked over and handed Remy a blue passport. "It says Clementa Ové, but I can have it changed. It's just the one they gave me." Remy stared at him for a moment, but then nodded, taking the passport. She set it on the crate beside her.

He turned to Cameron. "We're all set to depart. Have you decided?"

Cameron took one final look at Remy. She nodded and expelled a breath.

There was no hesitation.

* * *

So that's it. There will be no epilogue, and I'll take Cameron's decision to the grave with me. Please, before you throw the computer, hear me out. I planned to leave it open like that for the last 20 chapters. And as awful as cliffhangers are, did you really expect anything else from me? C'mon, I know I'm still loved (deep down). Thank you everyone for taking time to read and review, and a huge thanks to iyimgrace, wonderousplaceforanecho, greeenraiin, and Amazon Life. Without you guys it wouldn't have turned out nearly as awesome. And as for my little name anagrams, Lily Enamors is an anagram for Remy Allison, Clementa Ové is an anagram for Camteen Love. Again, thank you everyone. This was awesome to write. And I already have another story in the works. Please get over your hatred of me by Saturday.


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